Be Careful What You Wish For
by Jill O'Brien
Summary: Luthien is an average sixteen-year-old whose biggest problems are her name and her two younger brothers, until two bored Valar decide to give her what she idly wished for. Kind of. Free of Legolusting, Tenth Walkers, and other Suvian contaminants.
1. Chapter 1

  
        Luthien slammed her bedroom door, wishing yet again she could prove she was adopted so she could get away from here. She was counting the days until her eighteenth birthday, when she could move out for good, change her name, and deny any connection to her family. She hated her name (among other things). Who in their right mind named a child 'Luthien Tinuviel'? Her parents must have been high on something when they decided to name their children after characters from 'Lord of the Rings' (which, knowing them, seemed entirely likely). Her younger brothers (who were three years apart) had been named Elladan and Elrohir.  
        "Why couldn't they have named me 'Jennifer' or 'Heather'?" she asked her cat, Gothmog, as she sat down on her bed. "When I turn eighteen, I'm changing my name to 'Isabel'." Gothmog looked at her unblinkingly for a long moment, then yawned and rolled onto his side.  
        Luthien spent the rest of the afternoon listening to Dar Williams while she worked on the rough draft of her research paper for English on Queen Elizabeth I. She'd thought when she chose to write on how Elizabeth had been influenced by her father she'd enjoy the research, but after one day source-gathering at the huge library downtown had disabused her of that idea. Most of the books and articles were boring and dry and she was looking forward to the day when she handed in her final draft and never had to write down another quote on another notecard ever again.  
        She was just about to save her work when the screen turned an ugly yellow and laughing jars of Smuckers jam began to dance across the screen, followed by 'Greetings! You've just been jammed by Cap'n Lonestar' in blood-red letters. Luthien stared at the screen in mute horror as the jars and message scrolled across her screen in an endless loop. No. Not again. Not now. Not when she'd all but finished her research paper. "ELLADAN! ELROHIR, YOU STUPID LITTLE-!"  
        "Cursing is futile," a voice interrupted sardonically from her doorway. "Your files have been assimilated. We'll give them back if you're real nice to us."  
        Luthien closed her eyes and counted to ten. "Why don't you use your skills for good, like hacking the school and failing the jocks in gym?"  
        "Already did that," Elladan said, sounding smug. "We want to wait a while before we do it again."  
        Luthien's eyes opened and she looked back at the older of her two brothers, slouched against the doorframe. "When?"  
        "Last June. The football coach was livid when his star quarterback couldn't play. And how do you think I passed Art?"  
        "You could have changed my grades while you were in there," she pouted.  
        Smug smirk. "We did. Why'd you think you passed Algebra?"  
        "Because I studied like crazy for the final and done well," she admitted, cheeks warm. So much for studying paying off. "I need my research paper back. Now."  
        Elrohir appeared next to Elladan. "If you're nice to us, Lulu."  
        "Please don't call me that," she said, her clipped words dripping with sweetness. As soon as she had her paper back, she was going to make them pay. "What do I have to do to get my paper back?"  
        Her brothers looked at each other, then at her. "Clean our rooms," Elladan said.  
        She felt her stomach turn over. "Other than that."  
        Elrohir shook his head. "That's the deal. Clean our rooms and you get your files back."  
        Luthien shoved back her desk chair and stalked over to her brothers. "No. Stinking. Way. Your rooms are total pits of despair. Give me back my school files before Mom gets home or I'm telling her you two hacked my computer to blackmail me into cleaning your rooms."  
        "That's not why I did it," Elrohir said. "I hacked into your computer because I was bored. Elladan suggested borrowing your files so you'd do us a favor once I was in."  
        "My mistake," she said tightly. "I'll tell Mom you hacked my computer and then decided to take my files to blackmail me into cleaning your rooms for you." Her brothers blanched slightly, making Luthien smirk. They knew if their parents found out they'd hacked their sister, they'd be grounded from their computers (which they lived for) for a long, long time. "I want all my files back in five minutes, or I'll also tell her that you hacked the school last summer and changed people's grades."  
        "Including yours," Elladan said quickly. "If you rat us out on that, Ro will have to change your Algebra grade back.  
        Luthien narrowed her eyes. Damn. She'd been so close to total sibling domination. "I'm still telling her you hacked my computer and took my files and I lost a good chunk of my research paper because of that and you won't give my files back unless I clean your rooms."  
        "We saved everything," Elrohir assured her emphatically. "And you'll get it all back."  
        "I was about to save when you stole my files and froze my computer, you little turd. You know what happened the last time you hacked me." She suddenly had an idea. "Recover what I didn't get a chance to save and put all the files back on my hard drive before Mom gets home, and she never hears about this from me." She gave Elrohir the Evil Eye.  
        After a long moment, he looked away and muttered, "Fine. I'll get your paper back for you."  
        "And put my files back."  
        "Yeah." He slumped back down the hall, muttering under his breath.  
        Elladan, however, didn't move. He stared after Elrohir, and when his younger brother's door slammed, he looked at his sister and said proudly, "Taught him everything he knows."  
        She regarded him with narrowed eyes. "Only you would take credit for turning him on to high-tech espionage."  
        "The CIA pays well for someone with those skills."  
        She rolled her eyes and shook he head slightly. "Or he'll end up in prison, and you'll be his cellmate." She went over to her desk and opened the 'Documents' folder on her computer desktop and checked that her research paper was there in its entirety. "Excellent. Go tell Mini Me he's safe from Mom going lawnmower on him."  
        Later that night, Luthien was curled up in the 'secret' room behind her closet, reading. The farmhouse they lived in had been used on the Underground Railroad, so there were several of these spaces built into the walls around the house. By chance, she'd gotten the only bedroom with a hiding space, which made her brothers green with jealousy. More than once, they'd attacked it, necessitating that her father put a lock on the closet door. For extra security, she'd put one on the inside of the entrance to Mirkwood for when she was in there. She'd wanted to call the room Imladris, but you couldn't very well call an enclosed space Imladris, now could you?  
        Something began pounding on the closet-side wall, startling Luthien. "Sweet Eru on a pogo stick!" she exclaimed, sitting up and hitting her head on the reading lamp. "Ow! Damn! WHAT?"  
        "Let me in!" Elrohir said in a low voice. "Elladan is going to pound me to a pulp if he finds me!"  
        "So says the boy who came into my room and closet without permission. If he doesn't turn you into hamburger, I will, and I'll feed your remains to Gothmog and Beruthiel when I'm done."  
        "Tee, please." He was using his old nickname for her, and that tone! He sounded so pathetic! "Please?"  
        "You owe me," she grumbled as she unlocked the panel and pushed it open slightly. Elrohir grabbed it and jerked it up, sliding underneath quickly and letting it drop back into place. Luthien pulled her knees tightly under her chin so Elrohir wasn't sitting on her feet. "What'd you do this time?"  
        He grinned, dimpling in a way that always made female relatives want to pinch his cheeks. "I replaced all his MP3s with Backstreet Boys and N'Sync."  
        She smothered a laugh, not wanting to encourage him. She didn't want him messing with her settings again. "You can't hide in here forever, Ro. You'll have to face Dan at some point."  
        "Yeah, but the longer I hide, the less mad he'll be when I do have to see him and maybe he won't want to pound me so bad then. Can I have some chocolate?" Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed the bag of mini Hershey bars on the floor by the reading lamp and took out a handful. "Thanks."  
        "Yeah, sure, Ro, you can have a few," she said sarcastically. He gave her an angelic smile as he unwrapped the first little bar and popped it into his mouth. "It's not going to work, Ro. I know you too well to be fooled by the Charming Angel look."  
        "So does Mom, but she always gives in to it."  
        "Mom's a sucker for dimples and puppy eyes. And that would be Dan" she added, hearing feet pounding up the stairs that were on the other side of the room's back wall "looking for you." As if on cue, they heard a muffled "RO, YOU'RE DEAD WHEN I FIND YOU!"  
        Elrohir's eyes grew wide. "I told you he was going to pound me."  
        "That's if he finds you." She unlocked the panel and started to open it, but Elrohir grabbed her arm. "Ro, let go."  
        "Don't tell him!"  
        "I'm not going to, I promise. I'm going out to tell him you came looking for somewhere to hide, but I kicked you out and I think you went down the back stairs."  
        Elrohir let go of her arm. "Okay. Thanks."  
        "I like your style. Usually." They both grinned. "You owe me for this." She crawled out into her closet, hearing the inside lock slide closed when the panel was back in place.  
        She followed the sounds of things being tossed around down to Elrohir's room, where Elladan was pulling apart the closet.  
        "He went down the back stairs," she said, trying not to think about the moldy plate on the dresser. "He came to me to hide, but I kicked him out."  
        Elladan cursed as he crawled backwards out of the closet. "You should have let him hide and then come told me where he was."  
        "And let you make a bloody mess out of my room?" she asked dryly.  
        "Mom and Dad would let you change your room around, like you've been begging them to let you."  
        "Probably." She stood back to let him out the door. "Still proud you taught him everything he knows?"  
        "Bite me."  
        If eyes could dance, hers would have been. "No thanks. You'd probably taste nasty." She laughed when he stuck his tongue out at her.  
        She did the Secret Knock on the back wall of her closet and was rewarded with the feeling of several wooden planks smacking hard into the front of her left ankle. "You could have warned me first!" she hissed as she crawled into Mirkwood. "Where's the chocolate?"  
        Elrohir's eyes grew large. "I finished it?" he offered in a small voice.  
        "You ate an entire bag?" Luthien echoed with disbelief. "You're going to be up all stinkin' night! And Mom's going to blame me if she hears you're bouncing off the walls because the chocolate you ate came from my supplies. Like it's my fault you pigged out while I was gone." She rolled her eyes and silently counted to ten while biting the tip of her tongue. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't go and tell Elladan where you are?"  
        "Because if you do, he'll kill you, too, because you hid me and lied to him."  
        The kid was too damn smart. "He won't if he knows what's good for him," she said, thinking fast. "Mom will nail his butt to the wall for going after me when I was only trying to keep you from being hurt, and when I tell her he helped you hack me today, he'll be in even deeper trouble."  
        "And so will I." His voice was small and pathetic and he'd crawled up next to her, his huge, sad puppy eyes threatening to melt her resolve to use the hacking to her advantage at some point. "I put everything back. And you didn't lose any of your research paper."  
        "Which I would have if I hadn't insisted you restore it," she shot back.  
        "No, I made sure to save it before I did anything."  
        "Thanks." Maybe he wasn't so bad after all.  
        "If I didn't, you'd definitely tell Mom, and she'd take my computer away, and everything I need to hack Matty Simcoe's computer is on there. I'm really close and don't want to stop now. Do you have anything in here to eat? I'm hungry."  
        Luthien unlocked the panel and pushed it open. "Get out, brat."  
        "What?"  
        "Get. Out. Now. You just ate all my chocolate, you only give a crap about wreaking havoc on everyone else's computers, and you want to eat the rest of whatever I might have in here. Get out. I hope Elladan pounds you good."  
        "Thee, I'm sorry about the chocolate. Really! It was just so good, and I didn't realize-"  
        "Get" she pushed him towards the opening "out!" Brothers!   
        She locked the panel behind him and swore she'd never stand in the way of Elladan giving him what he deserved ever again. It was funny, though, replacing all of Dan's MP3s with Backstreet Boys and N'Sync. Quite a shock for a kid who liked acid rock and ska. She giggled. He must have been livid. Violently livid, like the time she told some kids at school his nickname at home was 'Elly'. He hadn't forgiven her for a month.  
        "MOMMY! HELP! AUGH!" Elrohir's piercing shriek was followed by a moment of silence, then the 'whump' of something heavy landing on furniture. Luthien grinned, trying to imagine what Dan was doing to Ro. Probably tossed him onto the sofa and was pushing his face between the back cushions, pinning an arm behind Ro's back while Ro shrieked and cried. "MOMMY!" 'Mommy' didn't answer. She likely had the door to her office shut to keep out the noise while she worked.  
        'Mom should know better,' Luthien thought to herself as she unlocked the panel and got out of the hiding space. 'Probably assumed I'd take it upon myself to keep them from killing each other.' Just because Mom hadn't minded taking care of her siblings didn't mean Luthien wanted anything to do with it. If she wanted to baby-sit, she'd hire herself out for $8.00 an hour, not referee her brothers after dealing with overgrown kindergarteners at school all day. If she heard one more person call her Ginny Weasly one more time....  
        "Oh, there you are." Luthien stopped short at the top of the back stairs, surprised to see her mother on the second step in front of her. "Your brothers are fighting."  
        Luthien kept her face flat. "I heard. That's why I'm going downstairs."  
        Her mother's face relaxed into a smile. "Thanks, honey. I knew I could count on you to break it up."  
        Luthien feigned surprised at her mother's assumption. "Break it up? I was going to watch and maybe offer to hold Ro down for Dan."  
        Her mother frowned. "Luthien, you need to set a good example for them."  
        "Like sitting in my room reading like I do most nights while they're playing bloody video games or war games outside when the weather's nice?" she replied sweetly. "Mom, I'm a girl. They're guys. It's in their genes to destroy each other in as bloody and violent a way as possible."  
        Her mother didn't look convinced. "Could you get them to stop? I'm working on an important case, and the yelling is distracting."  
        "Couldn't you?"  
        "Excuse me, young lady? I asked you to please help me out while I'm working on something important. Don't talk back to me!"  
        "You always lock yourself away in your office at night and expect me to magically keep the brats-"  
        "They have names."  
        "Dan and Ro under control, and it's my fault when they don't listen. It's not my fault! They don't care what I say, because they know all that's going to happen is you'll come out of your office and yell for them to go to their rooms, where they'll spend the rest of the night on their computers, playing games, and Elrohir will be working on his latest computer hacking efforts."  
        "Computer hacking?" Her mother sounded skeptical.  
        "Yes. He drives Dan and me nuts messing with our systems and I wouldn't be surprised if he's hacking other people now, too."  
        "Where would he learn how to hack? He hasn't had any computer classes at school."  
        Luthien tried not to roll her eyes. Sometimes, parents were so dense. "Online. Where else?"  
        "You're sure?"  
        Luthien took a deep breath to keep her from losing it. "Yes." 'No,' she thought to herself sarcastically. 'I'm not, actually. I just pulled that out of my butt because it sounded real good.' "He's done it to me and Dan." She leaned against the wall.  
        "Why didn't you tell your father or me?" her mother asked, a slight edge to her voice.  
        "We haven't needed to." As if on cue, Elrohir shrieked for 'Mom!'. "We can handle him on our own."  
        "Like right now?" Her mother was definitely Not Happy with her. She shrugged. "Dan has his ways, I have mine." Their mother gave Luthien The Look. "I have a son to rescue. We'll finish this talk later." "Right," Luthien muttered under her breath, staring after her mother running down the stairs and yelling for her brothers to "Stop it now! I said NOW!" Well, there went all the excitement for the evening. She turned and went back to her room to see if Trish was online. They hadn't finished talking about Michael Burns and how Luthien should go about asking him to the prom next month during lunch. Thundering feet on the stairs, yelling, crying, their mother telling Elrohir to "Get back down here RIGHT NOW, young man!". Her door flying open and Elrohir cursing at her in Sindarin. "You told her!" he yelled. "You said you wouldn't!" He grabbed her Figwit- signed copy of 'Lord of the Rings' and tore a handful of pages out. "You lied!" "YOU SHIT!" She scrambled off her bed, across the room to her bookcase, and wrapped one arm around his neck and grabbed the book with her free hand. "I'm going to fucking kill you, you little bastard," she spat through clenched teeth, so furious she couldn't see straight. "I'm going to choke the living shit out of you for this." "Mom!" "Shut up!" She tightened her hold on his neck. "That was 'Lord of the Rings', you shit. My signed copy. And you tore pages out of it because you're all pissed Mom busted your ass. How'd you like it if I came in to your room and tore up your first-edition 'Silmarillion'?" She pried the torn pages out of his hand. "Or maybe your Topps cards? That's not a bad idea, actually. I'll go do that now." She let go of his neck and shoved him away from her. "I'll flush every single one of those cards." Hands grabbed her arms. "Thee, I know you're really mad, but you need to calm down." "He tore up my 'Lord of the Rings', Dan," she spat. "Because he's pissed he's in trouble." "He was turning blue, and you promised you wouldn't tell Mom about today." The bit about 'turning blue' penetrated through the angry fog in her brain. "I didn't say anything about today. Only that he's hacked into our computers before." "What happened today? And what's wrong with Elrohir?" Their mother pushed past her and Elladan to pull her youngest son into her arms. "Dan didn't give me a chance to finish choking the little shit for tearing apart my 'Lord of the Rings'," Luthien answered. "You were choking him? Sweet Eru! Elrohir, are you all right? Luthien, how could you?" Luthien smiled weakly, her eyes connecting with Elladan's. "Oh, it's easy. Just put your arm around his neck and squeeze until he stops trying to pull free." Elladan squeezed his lips together, obviously trying not to smile. "That's not funny!" their mother exclaimed. "Hurting your brother like that!" "I wasn't trying to be, Mom. Dan, you can let go. He's safe." Elladan let go of her arms and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "For now. Mom, he just came bursting in and saying I lied, and then he grabbed 'Lord of the Rings', the one Dad gave me and I had signed when we went to L.A, and just grabbed some pages and ripped them out." She felt herself tear up as she said it. "The book is ruined." "I'm sorry. But that's not a reason to choke your brother." She turned a hard stare on Elrohir. "I'm going to get all your Topps cards and flush them. And then tear up your photo of Hugo Weaving. And maybe take a few pages out of your 'Silmarillion'. And-"  
        "You're not doing any of that," her mother interrupted sternly. "Destroying his things isn't going to make up for what he did to your book."  
        "No, but it'll feel good," Luthien shot back grimly.  
        Her mother sighed, gave Elrohir another once-over, and stood up and walked over to Luthien. Putting an arm around her shoulders, she said, "I know how much that book meant to you. And I am sorry."  
        "It was signed by lots of the stars. What good is it now?"  
        "I know. When I was living at home, one of your aunts got mad at me and threw out about half of my 45's, many of which were hard to get."  
        "What'd you do?"  
        "Tried to pull her hair out. Gramma stopped me and made Jeanne pay to replace every 45 she'd thrown out."  
        "How long did that take?"  
        Sigh. "A while. But Jeanne didn't go out on the weekend during that time, either, so it wasn't all bad." Shoulder squeeze. "Don't worry."  
        'Right' Luthien thought. Good luck making up for this. Her mother walked back over to Elrohir. "You are in deep trouble, young man. Not only for hacking your sister and brother's computers, but for destroying your sister's copy of 'Lord of the Rings' for absolutely no reason." "She lied to me!" Elrohir protested. "She said she wouldn't tell about today!" "What happened today?" their mother asked. "Elrohir?" Silence. "The longer you wait, the angrier I get." "He hacked into Thee's computer and took her files and was going to make her clean his room to get them back," Elladan said. "You helped me!" Elrohir shot back. "You were going to make her clean your room, too! And taking her files was your idea, not mine!" "Prove it! Mom, he's making that up. I didn't have anything to do with it." "You stinking liar!" That was Luthien, now ready to pound both her brothers. "You were right there alongside Ro, demanding I clean both your rooms to get my files back! And I didn't tell Mom about today, you little turd. I kept my promise. All I said was that you'd hacked into my and Dan's computers. I didn't tell her when."  
        "QUIET! All of you." All three kids fell silent. "Elladan, I'll deal with you in a minute. Go to the kitchen. Elrohir" she looked down at her youngest son "you and I are going to my office to have a chat." Hand firmly on his back, she propelled him forward and out of Luthien's room, closing the door behind them.  
        The silence was deafening. Woodenly, Luthien walked over to her bed and flopped down onto her back. "They should have been drowned at birth. They're the spawn of Morgoth. Especially Elrohir," she said to the ceiling. "I can't believe he tore up my book. No way Mom can do anything that'll make up for that." She sighed deeply. "I hate my life! Everyone at school thinks I'm some kind of freak and that I like being named all weird, and they think they're so damn smart by asking me if my parents were going to name me after a character in a book, why didn't they name me Ginny? I'm sick of having to deal with Morgoth's spawn. I'm sick of being treated like a bloody babysitter so Mom can spend all night in her office and spend more time on her clients than she ever spends with us. I'm sick of Dad working all the time in that crappy walk-in medical clinic because he thinks everything will fall apart if he's not there. I'm sick and tired of being trapped in this pink nightmare of a bedroom! FUCK!" She jumped up and pulled the bedspread off the bed, dragging it behind her as she walked over to the window. Letting go of it for a moment, she threw the window open, shoved the screen up, then reached down and grabbed up the bedspread, pushing it out the totally open window. When she head it 'plop' on the ground two stories below, she grinned. That felt good! Energized, she went back to her bed and snatched up the decorative pillows and threw them out the window. In short order, everything pink, frilly, ruffle-y, lacy, or daintily femme joined the pillows and bedspread on the ground below.  
        "And now, the finishing touch," she said brightly as she carried a bucket of water into her room from the bathroom across the hall. "Add black ink to water" she opened the pot of black ink she used for calligraphy and poured it into the bucket "stir, and dump on pile of Pink Nightmare" she hoisted the bucket up to the window and tipped it towards the opening, smiling when she heard the black water hit the pile below. "Let sit overnight. Serves one with an excuse to re-decorate and not live like a six-year-old."  
        Feeling slightly better, she went downstairs to make some tea. Elladan was at the kitchen table, looking cross. Luthien ignored him, not wanting to get into another fight. Not tonight. For all she cared, he could be grounded from his computer until he graduated high school. The only person he cared about was himself and he'd let someone else take all the blame for something he'd been involved in if it meant he wouldn't have to deal with the concequences. 'If there was ever been a real Elladan, he's rolling in his grave that my brother is named after him," Luthien thought smugly to herself as she poured hot water over a strawberry teabag and set a bowl over the mug so no steam would escape while the tea steeped for ten minutes. 'Wouldn't be surprised if Real!Elladan started haunting my brother in retaliation for giving his name a bad name.' Not a bad play on words. Maybe she had a future in speechwriting.  
        When her tea was ready, she added milk and cream and went back up to her room, hiding away in Mirkwood. "What I wouldn't give," she said with a sigh, "to be in Middle Earth right now, mingling with elves and sons of Man, but especially elves, and not dealing with two little brothers that should have been drowned at birth."  
        A light, tinkling laughter came from somewhere behind her and over her head. "At least this one has read the Red Book," a barely-audible female voice said, sounding very amused.  
        "And she's not wishing for Legolas to fall in love with her, thanks be to Eru," another voice said, male this time and also barely audible. "One of those had Mirkwood in an uproar for decades."  
        The female voice made some kind of noise that sounded like a groan. "Don't remind me."  
        During all of this, Luthien was turning around and looking for any cracks where voices could be coming through, but found none. Odd. But who would be talking about her and wishing for Legolas to fall in love with her? Was she cracking up? Was this a sign? Would she see little men next? It wouldn't surprise her if she was, after the day she'd had. Those two beasts were enough to drive anyone over the brink. She tried wiping out the insides of her ears with her pinkies, but the voices were still speaking. She must be going crazy. Ah, well. May as well enjoy it. She rested her back against the rear wall of the space and slid down into a sitting position to listen to what the voices were saying.  
        "So we're agreed," the male voice said. Luthien blinked. What had she missed?  
        "Yes. Tomorrow, after Afternoon Tea." The female voice laughed again. "What is it Men always say? 'Be careful what you wish for'?"  
        "Yes. But you forgot the last part. 'Because you just might get it'." Both the voices laughed. "If they knew we were listening, they'd probably be more careful."  
        "Men were always foolish," the female voice said indulgently. "Some things never change. Now, about those storms in northern China. Do you think...." The voices faded to nothing, leaving Luthien extrememly confused as to what had just happened. Had the coffee creamer gone bad and triggered halucinations? She looked down at her mug for a moment, then set it at the far end of the space. No more of the tea, just in case. She didn't want to end up seeing elves two-stepping around her bed later. Or maybe she was simply loosing her mind and she'd end up in a rubber room talking about the little green men tapdancing on the ceiling. She giggled. That could be interesting, tapdancing men on the ceiling. Maybe they'd take requests. 


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry this took so long. Blame it on being in the UK for six weeks to study British history. Yorkshire and Wharram Percy, a deserted Medieval village, gave me much inspiration. As always, constructive crit is appreciated.

DISCLAIMER: If you recognize a person, place, or thing from Tolkien's work, it's his. I'm just playing in the sandbox he created, to paraphrase Novidhelion, a fellow fanfic writer. I lay claim to everything else.

The sound of Galadriel talking about becoming a dark queen pulled Luthien out of a very nice dream she'd been having that involved Figwit, chocolate, and body massages. Supremely annoyed at the untimely and very unwanted intrusion, she rolled over and slapped at her alarm clock. "I hate mornings," she muttered groggily under her breath. "Wish I had a ring. I'd make school start later. And ban math." Which reminded her she had a test today and she hadn't studied. Groaning, she pulled her pillow over her head and tried to think of a way to convince her mother she was sick that she hadn't used a million times before.

Someone was shaking her. "Luthien, it's seven o'clock," her mother's voice said. Whatever. She had fifteen minutes until she had to catch the bus. And she was in bed. Oh. Crap.

"Thanks, Mom," she said, bolting upright and trying not to start cursing. "Could you put a Pop tart by the front door for me to grab on my way out? Thanks."

"I already did," her mother said dryly as she left. "I know the routine."

Luthien stuck out her tongue at her mother's back. She didn't have to rub in Luthien's habit of seriously oversleeping. She always made it to the bus, didn't she?

Trish was waiting for her at the back of the bus. "You will not _believe_ what I heard about Orlando Bloom," Trish gushed as Luthien sat down next to her. "He broke up with Kate whatshername and is moving to America!" She giggled. "Now all we have to do is find out what city and go find him!"

"He'll have scads of security and where he's living is going to be top secret."

"I'll look his phone number up online."

"It won't be listed under his name, if it's listed at all, or everyone would find him that way."

"Oh." Trish's face fell. "Then how am I going to find him?"

"Hire a PI and have them track Orlando down?"

"Already tried that. They all laughed."

"Guess you'll have to wait until then." Luthien patted her arm. "Sucks to be sixteen." She was going to hire a PI to find Figwit. She needed a man who knew elves weren't Santa's helpers, unlike most of the morons at school. "Ro the Demon Spawn hacked my computer yesterday and then hacked Dan's later and Dan tried to kill him and I wanted to go watch but Mom stopped me and I mentioned to her that Ro's hacked our computers and Mom busted his sorry butt and he came tearing up to my room and tore a wad of pages out of my copy of 'Lord of the Rings', including Figwit's autograph, because he thought I'd ratted him out on what he did earlier after I promised not to. Mom and Dan stopped me from killing him. Mom says she'll take care of it, but how can she? Dad gave me that copy years ago, and where's she going to get Figwit's autograph?" She sighed deeply. "Brothers suck."

"So do sisters," Trish added. "They use all your stuff and leave it all over the bathroom or totally destroy it and then don't replace it. And they're _always_ taking your clothes without permission and then not washing them before they give them back."

"Nasty. I'm glad Ro and Dan don't do that." She shuddered a bit at what kind of condition her clothes might come back in if they ever borrowed something. _If _the clothes ever came back.... "So, how should I ask Michael Burns to the prom? I'm so nervous!"

At the end of third period, asking Michael Burns to the prom was the last thing on her mind. How she was going to explain to her parents why she'd totally bombed the geometry test she'd just taken had her full attention. She _had_ to spend more time studying. There was no way around it. Ro could hack in and change her grade at the end of the year, but until then, she'd have to endure being lectured by her parents. Just because _they_ were good at math and her brothers were Einsteins with it, they seemed to think she just wasn't trying hard enough. "I'm right-brained," she muttered as she violently twisted the combo lock on her locker. "Art is my thing, not figuring out the area of an equilateral triangle." Not like you needed that stuff anyway.

"Hey, Luann," a deep voice said to her right. She tried not to start grinning like a fool. Michael Burns!

She turned slowly, trying to look non-chalant. "Hey, Mike. What's up?"

"I was wondering if you-if you're planning to go-if you're interested, if you'd like to go to the prom with me." He seemed relieved to have it out.

"Yeah, that would be great." She was amazed at how calm she sounded.

He smiled, making Luthien feel a bit weak in the knees. He had a great smile. "Great. We can figure out everything when tickets go on sale."

"Sounds good."

"Yeah." He didn't move.

Luthien watched him watch her and wondered if he was sticking around to kiss her. That would so totally rock if he did. She'd never been kissed before, and she was sure Mike would be an awesome kisser. So why did he keep standing there? She licked her lips and leaned towards him slightly.

The bell rang, making them both jump. "I gotta get to chemistry before Tate kills me for being late again," Mike said quickly. "I'll see you later!"

She stared after him, stunned. Why hadn't he kissed her? Jerk! He must have known she wanted him to. He was such a jerk, standing there like that, letting her think he was going to kiss her when he wasn't going to at all. And he never got her name right! Luann, indeed! Why couldn't her parents have named her something easy to remember, like 'Molly' or 'Anna'? She slammed her locker door shut, then remembered her backpack was inside. Grinding her teeth, she opened her locker and grabbed her books and backpack and sprinted off to English.

She gave Trish a run-down on her day on the bus home. "Yeah, I was totally bouncing off the walls that he asked me," she said, grinning "but then he just stood there and I thought he was going to kiss me but he just ran off when the bell rang, saying he didn't want to be late for chemistry again. Why are boys so stupid?"

Trish shrugged. "I don't know. But he asked you! That's great! We need to go dress shopping. Find out what color his cummerbund is going to be so you can get a dress to match. Or tell him what color your dress is so he can get a cummerbund to match. And find out where you're going to go for dinner, and me and Brad and you and Mike can all go to the same place and we can share a limo." She squealed. "We could get similar dresses, so we'd match, and then Mike and Brad would have matching cummerbunds. We'll look great in the pictures."

"That's a great idea!" Luthien exclaimed. "IM me later and we can talk about what to wear. I have to study math this afternoon. Totally bombed the test today, I'm sure of it. I'll get chewed out by Mom and Dad because I'm not a math genius like Dan and Ro and they'll practically ground me so I can spend all day on math, which you know I suck at even when I _do_ study all the time." Trish nodded sympathetically. "I ace every art class and I've won awards, but they don't seem to care. All they care about is math and science and all the boring stuff."

"Parents always do. They're evil like that. Oh, it's your stop!"

Luthien jumped up. "Talk to you later!"  
The afternoon was warm and breezy, so Luthien took her time walking back from the bus stop. The bugs were buzzing loudly in the fields on both sides of the road and butterflies were floating from flower to flower. Occasionally, she saw squirrels in the trees, chattering at each other or leaping from one branch to another. She smiled. Maybe she'd just spend the afternoon studying outside and enjoy the weather before things got cold and ugly.

A rabbit dashed into the road, and then stopped dead on the center line. Its dark eyes, large and dark, darted around looking for danger while its little nose twitched, smelling for threats. Its ears were laid back against its mottled grey body, making it look like one of Luthien's stuffed animals. She stood still, watching the rabbit, smiling at how cute it was. Maybe if she stayed outside, she'd see more rabbits. Definitely a reason not to go home right away. She started walking again, heading for the rabbit to get it out of the road before a car came flying through (like they always did) and turned it into a bunny pancake.

The rabbit took off quickly, heading straight into the field like Luthien thought it would. She kept on straight, using her hands to push the chest high grass aside when she entered the field, aiming for the small clearing on the edge of the woods that ended near her house.

On a whim, when she reached the woods, she kept going. There was a great climbing tree not too far back with an awesome branch to sit and read on. She could study up there and watch the ground below for wildlife. And who knew? Maybe a squirrel would come to visit her while she was up there. That would be awesome.

"Let the fun begin!" she thought she heard a female voice say, and then there was the same laughter she'd heard last night. Luthien stopped walking and shook her head. She hadn't had any more of that creamer and she'd gotten enough sleep, so it couldn't be hallucinations. And she hadn't had to deal with Morgoth's Spawn yet, so it couldn't be that either. Maybe she was just hearing things. Probably. She started walking again

And broke through the trees, stepping out into a huge, rolling, grassy meadow. Where the heck was she? Had she somehow gotten turned around weird and come out a different edge of the woods? She didn't think she had, but it was easy to do when you weren't paying attention. 'Better go back and get my bearings', she thought to herself as she headed back into the woods. No way she wanted to be lost when the sun went down. That would suck. Weird people came into the woods at night, and she didn't want to be there when they did.

Eru only knows how much later, Luthien was getting panicked. She couldn't find her way back to the grassy field and the sun was getting lower in the sky. "HELP!" she yelled, hoping someone would hear her. Maybe Dan and Ro were outside. Or Mom was home, and they were looking for her. They'd hear her and come looking. She sat down at the base of a tree. "HELP ME! ANYONE! HELP!" Silence.

More time passed. Luthien was hoarse from yelling and sick with worry. She'd never gotten lost in the woods before, not even when she'd first started going into them. So why was she lost now? "Mommy," she whimpered, resting her forehead on her knees as she started to cry. She just wanted to get out of the woods and go home. She wanted to sit down at her computer and talk with Trish about the prom. She wanted to hear Ro come running to her to hide her from Dan, or watch Dan pound Ro for whatever the little twerp had done this time. She felt herself smile. Watching those two was better than anything the WWE could come up with.

Her head jerked up with a start. It was completely pitch black now, and somewhere near by, something was breathing loudly. And it was getting closer. Luthien sat, frozen, terrified at what might be lurking behind the tree, about to pounce on her. "God, help," she murmured softly. "Don't let me get eaten!"

Without warning, she suddenly found herself pushed backward onto the ground, paws on her chest, extremely rancid dog breath assaulting her nose as whatever animal that had just pinned her to the ground panted. She figured if it wanted to eat her, it would have already tried to, and her friend, Becky's dog had managed to pin her like this a few times when it wanted her to play. She reached up blindly and felt around for the dog's face. It seemed friendly enough.

She shrieked when the dog licked the palm of her hand and then snuffled at her face for a moment before licking her from nose to chin. "Getoffame!" she said in a rush as she sat up and pushed the dog off her chest. "Do not do that again. Your breath stinks and Eru only knows what nasty stuff is in your mouth. I need a shower." She wiped her face on her sleeve, hoping she wouldn't come down with a rare and disgusting disease from this stinky dog.

The dog circled a few times and plopped down, resting its front paws and head on her leg. Luthien looked down in the direction of the weight on her leg, wondering where the dog had come from. Probably a stray that had wandered into the area. She gingerly felt for the top of its head and patted it, deciding she was glad the dog had found her. She was definitely glad for the company, and in the morning, maybe it could help her find her way out of here and back to food and clean clothes. Sighing deeply, she pulled her leg out from under the dog, grabbed her backpack, and tried to make a halfway decent pillow out of it so she could get some sleep before dawn.

Five minutes later, she dumped the books out and stuffed the backpack with leaves and whatnot off the ground. No way she could sleep with books for a pillow. Way too hard. Eru only knew if this would be any better, but it sure couldn't be any worse.

Figwit was kissing her passionately, sucking on her ear, her chin, her nose. "mmmmm...yes," Luthien said, laughing softly. _This_ was the way things should be. It was about time he saw she was just a simple Dunedain maiden that wished to make her home among the Eldar, and not there to seduce Elrond's sons. He, on the other hand, was fair game. And now, after months of anxious waiting, he was here with her, licking her-

Luthien's eyes flew open and saw the dog licking the side of her face. "I hate you," she muttered sleepily. "You made me think you were Figwit. Stupid dog." She should have known elves wouldn't do something so tacky. But it was light, so it was time to get up and get out of here. "Let's go. When we get back to my place, I'll get you some food or something." Mom would have a fit, her showing up with a stray, but she'd convince her the dog helped her find her way out and deserved some food in thanks.

The dog bounded ahead several yards as soon as she was on her feet, stopping and looking back at her. "Just a minute, dog." She dumped the leaves out of her pack, stuffed, the books back in, and headed after him. When she almost caught up with him, he moved ahead again and waited for her to catch up.

He stayed ahead of her like this until they reached the edge of the woods. Luthien stepped out into the open (another field) and, with a start, realized the sun was almost at its peak in the sky. "What the _hell_ is going on?" she exclaimed, tendrils of fear snakiing around her gut, threatening to squeeze and make it hard to breathe. "Where am I?" She looked back at the dog. "Mutt, where are we? Where do you live? Take me to your master." The dog looked at her, panting, tail wagging. "Let's go! Home!" The dog stood, but didn't move. "Or Imladris. Your choice." His tail began wagging faster. "You know where that is?" 'Stupid dog', she thought. "Let's go to Imladris! Yeah, let's go!" The dog trotted forward a few steps, and when Luthien moved to step forward, he took off away from the woods into the field, stopping up ahead and looking back at her. Laughing under her breath, she walked quickly towards him. Hey, whatever got him moving towards somewhere with a phone and food.

The field shouldn't be this large. That was Luthien's first thought when she realized the sun had sunk significantly in the sky and she and the dog were still walking without any sight of houses or roads. The field had turned more into a flat, grassy plain by this point, stretching unbroken in all directions as far as she could see. "We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto," she muttered under her breath. "I have no idea where we are, actually. But I need to stop." She sat down and flopped back, her feet screaming with relief at the lack of pressure on them. "Oh, sweet heavens above, yes, this is wonderful!" she sighed, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

The dog licked her cheek. "Hello, Dog." It licked her cheek once more and sat down next to her. "I wish you could speak and tell me where we are and how you found me and where you're taking me. But you're a dog, so you can't." She turned onto her side so she was looking at Dog. "I'll trust you're not leading me to any balrogs or orc patrols or white slavery or anything really evil, so wherever we're going, let's get there fast. I'm very hungry." The mention of her hunger make her mouth water and her stomach growl loudly. Dog stood up and stared at her gut curiously. When it didn't growl again, Dog sat back down. "Go hunt for food or something. Bring me a rabbit. Or something." Dog didn't move. Luthien pursed her lips and, for lack of anything else better, pulled up a handful of grass and ate it. It didn't taste too nasty, so she ate a few more until her stomach felt fairly full. She was so going to scarf burgers, fries, and chocolate when she got home to make up for having to eat grass. And why wasn't anyone out looking for her? She'd have words with her parents when she got home.

The sun was just starting to set when a small hut, smoke floating out of a chimney, appeared on the horizon. "Finally!" Luthien exclaimed. People! Maybe they had a phone or something, and they could help her get back to civilization. Through her parents, she knew, or was at least familiar, with all the hippies and New Age-type people in the tri-county area. Hopefully, they'd remember her and give her something to eat and clean clothes and take a bath. Or maybe just feed her. She'd deal with the rest after she ate. The grass had only lasted just so long.

Luthien began running and Dog followed suit, quickly outdistancing her to the hut, barking loudly the whole way. Someone came out and looked in the direction of the barking, exclaiming something when they realized it was Dog. Dog jumped up on the person and allowed his head to be scratched, then dropped down and started back towards Luthien, sitting down about halfway between her and the person. The person shouted something, but Dog didn't move. The person shouted again and, when Dog didn't move, started out towards Dog.

Luthien, clutching the straps of her backpack tightly, also started walking towards Dog. She sent up a silent prayer things would go her way.

As she and the person drew closer to Dog, she saw the person was a woman wearing a brown dress under some kind of dark cream-colored smock. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a bun that looked like it was coming loose and, even at a distance, she could see deep lines in the woman's face. Luthien stopped walking, the fear from last night returning. She'd never seen this woman before. She would have remembered someone who looked as much in need of facial moisturizer as this woman did. Where _was_ she?

Dog led the ugly woman over to Luthien and gave a short bark, looking at the woman and then at Luthien. When neither person moved, Dog barked again, looking between the woman Luthien. The woman, face unreadable, asked something Luthien didn't understand. Luthien shrugged and tried to indicate she was confused. The woman repeated the question, slower this time, but Luthien still had no idea. She shook her head, shrugging again. Why didn't the woman just speak English? Was she an immigrant that hadn't bothered to learn English? Her parents thought people like that should be made to go to government-sponsored programs so they could learn enough English to get a job and make a better life for themselves. She'd never had to deal with anyone like that, but if this was what it was like, she was with her parents. Those people really needed to learn English so people could understand them. And they were in America now, so they needed to speak English. Maybe she could teach this woman some English. Her dad would like that she had helped someone.

A tug at her sleeve brought her out of her thoughts. Looking down, she saw Dog tugging on her sleeve. The woman was saying something and gesturing towards the house as she walked in that direction. Luthien nodded and started after her. Dog dropped her sleeve and ran ahead, occassionally running back to Luthien.

The reek of unwashed bodies, animal poop, burned food, and other things Luthien couldn't identify, and wasn't sure she wanted to, hit her nose before she reached the house, making her dry heave a few times. Oh, Eru, what was she getting into? Who lived like this anymore? She was so going to tell the police about this place when she got home. It wasn't healthy.

The reek got stronger as she drew closer to the house, causing her to fall to her knees about fifty yards away and puke until her gut muscles were aching. When she got back to her feet, the woman was standing by the door, an annoyed expression on her face. 'It's not my fault you can't keep your house clean', Luthien grumbled to herself as she plodded up to the house, holding her nose. If she wasn't so hungry and it wasn't dark she'd go back to the woods and take her chances finding her way home.

The inside of the house was surprisingly clean. There were a few barnyard animals at the far end, a trough near their back ends scraped mostly clean. A few lamps were along the walls, guttering slightly as they burned some kind of really obnoxiously smelly oil. Over the fire, a pot hung from an iron hook, whatever was inside bubbling. The few windows were covered with some kind of opaque material that, when the sun was out, must let in some degree of light. There was a long table not far from the fire and a stack of mats by the left wall, she assumed, were the beds. But where was everyone else? The only person she'd seen so far was the woman.

A hand grabbed her arm. Luthien jumped and looked over, seeing only the woman, who was holding a wooden bowl of something grey and steaming. The woman nodded her head at the table. Luthien took the bowl and went over to the table. That had been easy enough to figure out. But where was the spoon? She looked back at the woman, whose face was blank. Okay, no silverware. This was definitely strange. Like going to Medieval Times, except it wasn't a show and the food definitely didn't look, or smell, as good as what they'd had there. Not that the food there had been good, but she was sure it had been better than this would be. Luthien picked up the bowl and took a tentative sip. Yeah, Medieval Times had definitely had better food, but, right now, she didn't care. This was food, even if it was tasteless and greasy, and she was hungry and she'd get picky when she was back home.

The woman stood next to Luthien while she drank the soup, and when the bowl was empty, the woman took it from Luthien's hands and, using a piece of coarse brown bread, wiped the bowl with the bread and lifted the break to her mouth, but instead of eating it, she handed it to Luthien. Guessing she was supposed to eat the bread and the bowl scrapings, she bit off a piece and was rewarded with a relaxing of the woman's expression. Luthien smiled, nodded, and rubbed her stomach. The bread, while dry, had a nutty flavor and wasn't half bad. Luthien hoped she could get some butter, and maybe some honey, the next time she had the bread.

The next time. Wait. There wasn't going to _be_ a next time. Luthien was going to try to find out how to get to the nearest town so she could find the police and get home. She'd be gone after breakfast in the morning.

Luthien was just finishing the bread when she heard loud voices, shouting and laughing, appoaching the house. Uneasy, she stood and looked over at the woman. She was smiling and scooping soup from the pot into a bowl. The voices must belong to the others that lived here. Luthien relaxed. Affecting a questioning expression, she reached for the bowl and nodded towards the table. The woman nodded and handed the bowl to Luthien. Seven more bowls followed, as did slices of bread when the woman moved to the small counter area near what looked like a Dutch oven. Luthien smiled to herself, glad she'd been able to communicate with the woman. And she'd done something nice, so the woman would know that Luthien was just a simple girl and no one to worry about. Something else her dad would be proud of her for. He always said she never helped around the house.

Eight males, all of varying ages, came bursting into the house moments after the last slice of bread was put down. They all immediately sat down and, almost in unison, lifted the bowls to their mouths and emptied them with a speed Luthien found slightly disturbing. Small wonder there was no flavor to the soup. With the speed these guys ate at, they'd never taste it anyway. The bread was gone almost as fast, but was quickly replenished by the woman, who was obviously used to this routine.

Only after everything was eaten and mouths were wiped on sleeves did anyone notice Luthien standing slightly behind the woman. One of the younger guys, sitting next to the older man at the far end, said something to the woman, who launched into a long explanation that Luthien didn't understand a word of. Whatever the woman said, the older guys looked confused and two of the younger guys said something that made both of them laugh loudly. The woman barked a sharp command, silencing the laughers and causing them to wear sheepish expressions.

The older man at the far end stood up and said something to the woman, who followed him out the door. The other seven guys waited a moment, then stood up and surrounded Luthien, all speaking at once. She looked around at them, eyes wide, wondering what the heck they were saying. She shook her head and shrugged, but they kept on speaking. "I don't understand!" she yelled. "I don't know what you're saying! Leave me alone!"

The guy stepped back, wary looks on their faces. One said something. She shrugged. He frowned and furrowed his brow and said something to one of the other guys, who made a gesture in Luthien's direction. This caused several of the others to laugh and make comments and gestures of their own. The first guy who spoke nodded, smiled slyly, and said something that made everyone else nod enthusiastically and then look at her in unison.

Luthien felt her stomach sink into her feet. Guys laughing and then looking at you in unison was never good. They were always up to something. She started to edge sideways, eying the door, hoping to escape before they did whatever they were planning.

No such luck. The guy that had made everyone laugh was suddenly blocking her escape and holding her by the elbows. Luthien felt her eyes grow wide and her mouth go dry. 'Whatever you do' she begged silently 'don't kill me or rape me. Be nice to me. I'm lost and want to go home.'

Suddenly, his mouth was on hers and she was pushing him away and the guys were laughing and hollering and there were shouts from the doorway. The guy was pulled away from her by the oldest guy.

The woman pushed through the guys and came over to Luthien, anxiously looking her over. When she didn't find anything, she sighed and muttered something under her breath, shaking her head slightly. She gestured to the table and gave Luthien a small push towards it. Mind still spinning, Luthien woodenly obeyed, putting her head down on her arms when she was sitting. This was all too weird to be real. She had to be dreaming. She'd fallen asleep in the field and this was all a dream and she'd wake up and everything would be fine and she'd blame this on too much school food at lunch time. Or something. But this was all a dream. It had to be.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Apologies for this taking so long. Uni's in full swing for the semester, which my muse has taken as a sign she can go on vacation indefinitely.

A lot of stern voices and yelling in a language she didn't understand went on behind her, ending when the guy that kissed her stalked outside, followed by the oldest guy still yelling at him, and all the other guys followed the action. Luthien stood where she was, too shocked by everything to move. What the _heck_ was going on? Why had that guy grabbed her and kissed her? Was he going to try anything else? Would he try to force her to have sex with him? Images of him grabbing her at night and forcing her flooded her mind, making her feel sick.

"This is all just a dream, this isn't real, I'm at home and I'll wake up late for the bus again," she muttered to herself, trying to banish the images from her mind. "But even if this is real, there are too many people here for him to rape me." Unless no one would stop him. But the woman and man were yelling at him, so they probably would stop him if he tried anything. If he lived her. Who was she kidding? She hadn't seen any sign of humans until this house. Of course he lived here. "If he so much as brushes me with a finger I'll kill him," she said to Dog, who was sitting by one of the cows at the far end of the house. "Guys are pigs."

Energized by righteous anger, Luthien walked to the doorway and looked outside. The sun had long since set, leaving the sky inky black. Stars blanketed the sky in numbers Luthien had never seen before. It was like there were layers on layers on layers of stars. Awed, Luthien stared, jaw slightly slack. It was amazing and so incredibly gorgeous. Somewhere behind the tree line, the moon was starting to rise, a thin sliver of its silvery-white light barely visible above the trees. To her right in the darkness, the people were talking rapidly. Occasionally, there was laughter, so she assumed her being assaulted had already been settled. It was nice they weren't arguing or upset anymore. She liked it when everyone got along. Too bad she couldn't understand them. It would have been interesting to know what they were talking about and to be able to talk with them and find out where she was and how to get home and to thank the woman for giving her something to eat.

She stayed in the doorway for a while, moving back inside when she began to shiver. Good thing she'd worn one of her heavier skirts today or she'd really be freezing. Too bad she didn't have-she did. She'd stuffed her jacket in her backpack when she left school because the afternoon was warm enough she didn't need it. Excellent! She hugged her fleece when she pulled it out of her backpack.

Smells of home filled her nose, making her tear up as homesickness flooded over her. "Mommy," she murmured, wiping her eyes and nose on her shoulder and upper arm. "I want to go home."

"So soon?" a female voice said behind her. "You just arrived!"

Luthien spun around, surprised. "Who are you?" she demanded. "And why are you glowing?"

The woman, dressed in the same kind of broomstick skirt and peasant top her mother liked to wear, laughed softly. "I am Nessa, one of the Valar."

"A Valar. Right. Nice to meet you," Luthien said, trying hard to keep from telling the woman to cut back on the amount of pot she smoked. "Do I know you from somewhere? And why are you speaking English?" It had just dawned on her that she understood this woman.

"Your John Tolkien wrote about us," Nessa said.

"John Tolkien. Who is-oh." THAT Tolkien. "You're one of the deities of Middle Earth." She bit her lip to keep from laughing. "I didn't know they dressed like hippies and spoke English. Interesting story, though." Valar. Wow. "I don't know how I got here or how you got here, but I really want to go home now so if you can get me there, I'd like you to show me the way back."

The woman's calm expression didn't waiver. "We appear to the Secondborn in a form familiar to them," she said. "I prefer loose garments. Hello, Orome."

That was said to the man who had just appeared next to her. Luthien did a double take, not believing her eyes. How had-what the-why was-"You look like a freak." She clapped her hands over her mouth, not beliving she'd just said that. If they were really Valar, they could fry her where she stood. Or something.

"A 'freak'?" the man asked. "And why do I look like a 'freak'?" He pronounced the last word as if it were stinking filth to be tossed away.

"You're dressed like some rich British guy going fox hunting."

Orome looked himself up and down. "This is what your people wear when they go riding, isn't it?"

Luthien shook her head. "Only rich people in England."

He looked annoyed. "So what _do_ you wear, then?"

She shrugged. "Last time I went, I wore jeans and an old shirt and boots with a heel and a riding helmet. And gloves to keep a grip on the reins."

Orome looked taken aback. "Oh. Well, I'll have to change, then. Is this better?"

"Yeah," Luthien choked out. He'd just…'poof', gone from British Snob Rider to Casual American Rider like…'poof'. Before she'd even had time to blink, he'd changed. This was too strange. "So you two are Valar?"

"Yes, we are," Orome said. "You said you wished you were in Middle Earth, so we brought you here. Do you like it?"

"You heard me wish I was in Middle Earth?" she echoed weakly. "When?"

"You were in your hiding place after your brother tormented you," Nessa said. "My brother" she shot a look at Orome "and I were out for a walk, talking about all the interest in Middle Earth now that Jackson Peters-"

"Peter Jackson," Luthien corrected.

"Peter Jackson, thank you, has made the movies based on John's writings and how many silly girls have no idea what Middle Earth is really like, when we heard your wish."

"It was Nessa's idea to bring you here," Orome said.

"You two are who I heard talking!" she exclaimed. "You were talking about doing something after teatime!" Now it was all making sense. Kind of. If making sense could leave you more confused. "Where am I?"

"The Mark," Orome said proudly. "Nessa got to pick where the last one went, so it was my turn this time."

Luthien felt her jaw fall open slightly. "I'm in _Rohan_?" she said, wishing she'd heard him wrong. "Land of the Horse Lords?" Oh, sweet Eru, this was worse than she thought.

"Yes, you are." Orome was looking Very Proud of himself.

"Oh. I'm going to sit down." She backed up to the table and sat down hard on the bench.

"Do you like it?" he asked, sounding like Ro on Christmas when he asked their mom if she liked whatever he'd made out of old computer parts. They rarely worked as he planned and usually ended up bursting into flame and burning everything around it. Luthien felt like their mom when she said "I haven't been here long enough to know if I do or not."

"_I told him you'd prefer an Elven realm_," Nessa's voice said inside her head. Luthien looked over at Nessa, who was looking slightly apologetic. "_I'll try to sway him_."

"She should have the chance to see all areas of Middle Earth, and she can decide which she likes best," Nessa suggested.

"What's not to like about The Mark?" Orome asked. "She just needs some time to get used to things here. We can come back in a few months and if she wants to go elsewhere, we'll make sure she gets there."

"I'd like to go home, if that's okay. I didn't really mean it when I wished I was in Middle Earth. I was just frustrated with my brothers. I'd really like to go home, if that's okay."

"You want to go home?" Nessa asked, sounding distressed. "But you wanted to be in Middle Earth! We heard you!"

"I wasn't serious. I'm sorry. I appreciate you trying to help me out, but I want to go home. Please."

"You'll love it when you get used to things here," Orome said confidently. "I promise. I never get tired of riding across these lands. Stay for a while and if you're still not happy, we'll see you home safely."

"Yes, try it here for a while," Nessa said eagerly. "Maybe you'll find you love it more than your home."

"But-" She burst into tears, frustrated and tired.

A gentle hand touched her shoulder. "Everything is going to work out, I promise," Nessa said. "Give Rohan a chance."

"Fine," Luthien choked out. "I'll try it for a while. Will I get to meet any elves?"

"You like Legolas?" Orome suddenly sounded weary.

"He's okay. I was thinking Imladris elves. Like Elladan and Elrohir. Or Figwit."

There was a long moment of silence. "It's not likely," said Orome. Luthien started crying harder. You'd think the _least_ they could do if they were stranding her here was grant this one little wish.

"We'll see what we can do," Nessa soothed, rubbing her shoulder. Somewhere in the back of Luthien's muddled mind it registered that the longer Nessa touched her, the more refreshed and calm she felt.

She stopped crying and looked up. "I appreciate you granting my wish. Really. I just miss my home and my family." A picture of Ro grinning in the way that meant someone was in for a lot of computer trouble came to mind, making Luthien's heart twist and a lump to come to her throat. Dan smirking as he leaned against her doorway yesterday replaced Ro's face, making the lump grow. If she could just see her pain-in-the-butt brothers again, she'd never complain about them again. Well, unless they hacked her computer again.

Nessa was speaking. Luthien blinked and tried to focus on the Valar. "We must go now. If you need us, you need only call our names."

"Okay." Luthien forced a smile and waited until Orome and Nessa were gone to put her head down on her arms and start sobbing again. This truly sucked.

The family came back into the house fairly soon after and took bedrolls off a shelf along one wall. The woman fussed in the cooking area while the men laid their bedrolls out and layed down, falling asleep quickly, if the volume of snoring was any indication.

For the first time, Luthien realized she had no idea where she was going to sleep, or on what, and that she'd be sleeping in her clothes for the second night in a row, which reminded her she hadn't changed clothes in…days. How many had it been now? Too long to go without changing clothes for sure, but she didn't think it was likely she'd get anything fresh to wear here. They didn't seem to grasp the basic concept of hygeine. Well, if she was going to be here for a while, she'd have to change that. Everyone knew that regular bathing and washing kept germs away.

She pushed the bench back and stood up, turning to face the woman. As best she could, she got the woman's attention and mimed sleeping and being curious while gesturing around the room. The woman looked totally confused. Great. Luthien thought for a moment and tried pointing to one of the bedrolls, then at herself and raised her eyebrows as if asking a question. The woman looked confused for a moment, but understanding came over her face and pointed to a pile of clean hay at the far end of the building. Luthien pointed at the hay to make sure the woman had really meant she should sleep on the hay. The woman nodded and smiled.

'Oh, sweet Eru, this just keeps getting worse,' Luthien thought to herself while forcing a smile and acting like sleeping on hay was on her list of things she loved to do. Well, it would probably be better than sleeping on the floor. Softer, at least.

Luthien's eyes slowly opened as her mind tried to come awake. There was noise and one of the younger guys was leading the cow through a door not far from her and Dog was following him. But the sky was dark so it couldn't be the next day yet. What was going on?

She sat up and pushed hair out of her face, picking out pieces of hay that itched uncomfortably, watching everything with undisguised curiosity and wonder. Is this what life on a farm was like? How interesting. But why were they going out at-wait. This wasn't night. This was dawn, or just before. That's when farmers got up. She never thought she'd be forced to wake up at dawn, though. That was _way_ too early. She'd go back to sleep when they were gone.

She'd just gotten comfortable in the hay again when the woman was speaking and tapping her shoulder. Luthien sat up and silently groaned when the woman gestured for Luthien to come with her to the cooking area. This was so not happening. This was evil. She was going to tell Orome and Nessa she wanted to go home _now_.

A bowl of…something was on the table and a very crude wooden spoon lay next to it. Luthien looked at the woman questioningly, to which the woman pointed to her, then at the bowl. Luthien nodded. Breakfast, it seemed. She hoped it would be better than last night's meal.

Luthien nearly gagged when she tasted what was in the bowl. Gritty and bland and tasting slightly of last night's soup, she wondered if the woman had boiled up sand and tried to pass it off as a meal. Visions of Poptarts and Cocoa Puffs and eggs and bacon danced through her mind, taunting her. She forced herself to swallow and take another spoonful. It was food. It was better than nothing.

When she was finished, she smiled at the woman and stood up. Now, where did the dirty dishes go? She looked around, but didn't see anything. The woman took the bowl and spoon out of her hands and dropped them into a bucket next to the hearth. She picked up a dingy apron and held it out to Luthien. Luthien, sinking feeling in her stomach, took it. This was turning into a total nightmare. 'Enjoy Rohan, my left butt cheek,' she groused to herself silently as the woman mimed filling the large pot with water and putting it over the fire, then taking water out of the large pot (when it was hot, Luthien assumed) and dumping it into the bucket that held dirty dishes. Luthien nodded. She could handle that. The woman looked pleased and picked up two similar buckets and started toward the main door, nodding for Luthien to follow her.

They walked a short distance to a swift-flowing stream, where the woman set the buckets down and dipped one into a small pool, filling it to the brim. She nodded at the empty bucket, then at Luthien. Luthien nodded and picked up the bucket, filling it full and setting it back on the bank. This, she was used to from being dragged by her parents to some tree-hugger gathering that went on during July in Woodstock. There wasn't any electricity or plumbing, which her parents and their weird friends seem to think was great. Getting back to nature. Is that why they had a dishwasher and microwave at home?

Luthien felt a tear run down her cheek and she realized she'd started to cry, thinking of home. Her parents were probably worried sick about her and her brothers were…probably besides themselves with glee at the idea of having access to her computer and her diary. She smiled wryly. She could almost hear them, exclaiming what an awesome chance this was to find out stuff they could embarrass and blackmail her with. Ro would be practically wetting himself with excitement that he had free access to the hiding space beind her closet (and her stash of chocolate). Gothmog would be on the end of her bed, sleeping like a log, not caring one way or the other what went on as long as no one disturbed him. Luthien giggled. That cat slept more than Garfield.

The woman was tugging on her sleeve. Luthien looked over at her quizically. The woman pointed at the house and, carrying the bucket like it weighed nothing, started towards it. Luthien picked up her bucket and grunted, stopping every few feet to put it down so her arms could rest. Good gravy! Where was a faucet when you wanted one?

Luthien eventually made it back into the house and, using the last of her strength, dumped the excrutiatingly heavy bucket into the large pot over the fire. Luthien glanced at the woman, who was kneading dough on the table, and thought she saw her lips twitching, like she was trying hard not to laugh. Luthien pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. The woman may think it was funny that Luthien had trouble carrying a bucket, but she didn't live in a place where you didn't _need_ to haul heavy buckets or heat water over a fire or anything primitive like that. People also took baths and didn't live in the same area as animals and sleep on filthy mats on the floor and eat food that tasted like dirt off the ground, only greasier. If living in a world where you didn't have to kill yourself to just have the basics was something to laugh at, the woman could laugh her silly butt off for all Luthien cared.

The woman looked up from her kneading and gestured for Luthien to come over to where she was standing. Hesitantly, Luthien did. Was the hag going to make her knead the dough and laugh when her arms fell off? Yes, that was apparently what the hag wanted her to do. Fine. Where was-Luthien blanched when she realized there was no sink, or anything she could use to wash her hands. Luthien looked down at her hands and felt her stomach roll at the sight of the dirt and Eru only knew what else on her palms and pads of her fingers. She gamely wiped her hands on the apron, but that only served to make her hands feel greasy and more dirty, if that was possible. Luthien closed her eyes and tried not to think about what was going into the bread. The heat of baking would kill any germs and stuff.

The ache in her shoulders and arms from carrying the bucket was nothing compared to the pain she felt when she was finished kneading dough--all five loaves worth. She would have complained, but the woman wouldn't understand her, and Luthien had a feeling it wouldn't do any good, anyway. The woman was mean, forcing a guest to do hard work. This was crap. She shouldn't have to be doing this. She _wasn't_ going to do any more of this. Thus emboldened, she followed the woman outside, carrying one of the wooden slabs with loaves ready for baking. Luthien didn't know why they were coming outside, but the crazy old bat must have her reasons, so she'd just follow and if they got into trouble, it wouldn't be her fault. She'd probably be expected to get them out of it, though. She scowled at the woman's back. She was going to demand the Valar let her go home. _Now_.

The woman stopped walking in front of a small mound and, using a forked stick, pulled a small wooden door open and, with a practiced speed, pushed the wooden slab she'd carried into the mound, turning to Luthien and gesturing for her to come over. Bemused, Luthien obeyed, handing her slab to the woman, who pushed the slab into what Luthien was assuming was the oven. Odd-looking oven. How did you manage to keep it hot enough to bake anything, and how did you know how hot it was and how long to leave whatever you were baking in the oven? Trial and error seemed the obvious answer. Lots of burned bread and charred cakes. Luthien giggled, remembering when her brothers and father had tried to make a cake one year for their mom's birthday and forgot to set the timer, then forgot the cake was baking until the smoke alarms started going off. They'd asked for help from her or Luthien's mom after that. Luthien stopped walking and squeezed her eyes shut to keep from crying. Her mom was an awesome baker. They never had to buy anything from the stores because it was never as good as what her mom would make. Her and her brothers' friends were always wanting to come over to get some of what their mom had made. The spice cookies were amazingly good, and the cream puffs were pure bliss. She loved cream puffs and wasn't above occasionally sneaking off with the whole container full of them, something her family never let her forget. Every year, her birthday 'cake' was a stack of cream puffs with a candle stuck in the top one. She could almost taste one now, the filling melting on her tongue and making her sigh with bliss, the pastry all but melting in her mouth. But there weren't any cream puffs. The taste of a cream puff turned to the sour taste of uncried tears and bitter, sharp sorrow at being trapped here without any way to return home. "Let them know I'm okay," she murmured under her breath. "Don't let them worry."

A light hand touched her shoulder, startling her. Her eyes flew open and her head turned quickly to see what was touching her. Heart pounding, she saw the woman, looking at her with a concerned expression. For a long moment, they stared at each other, Luthien at a loss for how to communicate to the woman how she was feeling. 'How did you tell someone who didn't speak your language that you're miserable and homesick and aching and just want to go home? You don't,' she bitterly thought, frustrated by the whole situation.

She abruptly turned and hurried toward the house, taking off the apron was she went. She didn't care what the woman thought. She couldn't deal with this. She had to get out of here and…she didn't know. She just had to get out of here and away from whatever crude, backwards, dirty way of life. 'No wonder so many kids died,' she grumbled to herself as she grabbed her stuff. 'They live like friggin' animals. No wonder everyone got sick and died young. They probably worked themselves to death.' She was going home. She'd demand the Valar let her go home. She needed a shower and clean clothes (especially clean underwear. It was so scavy she was still wearing the same pair for a third day in a row) and decent food and a real place to sleep and her brothers, even if they _were_ obnoxious gits. At least they were familiar obnoxious gits that, on occasion, were almost-normal human beings who were a lot of fun instead of the bains of her existence.

She wasn't far from the house-'hovel' she corrected herself sourly when the woman caught up with her. Grabbing Luthien's arm, the woman made her stop walking. Luthien sighed and, jaw clenched, turned around. The woman looked like she wasn't sure if she should be confused by Luthien's behavior or insulted by it, but she wanted an explanation anyway. Which, of course, Luthien couldn't give her because of the language difference. 'Would it have killed them to dump me with the Elves? I at least speak _some_ Sindarin and Quenya. Is wanting to be able to understand what people are saying to you too much trouble? That I'd have _fun_ not having a clue what anyone was saying or what was going on?' If this was Orome's idea of a good time, she didn't want to know what he considered a lousy experience. And Nessa just went along with him. She just wanted to go home and back to her life. Why wouldn't they let her go? Why were they trapping her here?

She didn't realize she'd begun crying until she felt something warm running down her cheeks, leaving a cold trail behind it. Luthien tried to staunch the flow, but the harder she tried not to cry, the larger the lump in her throat grew and the stronger the ache of grief at being ripped from her home became, which only made her cry harder.

Dimly, Luthien was aware of the woman helping her to sit down and putting an arm around her, pulling her close and murmuring something she didn't understand, but was probably meant to soothe her. Her mother would do that. "You're going to be fine," she'd say when Luthien was sick, or "It's going to be okay," when something had gone wrong and Luthien had no idea how to fix it. Maybe the woman was saying something like that. She was a mother. She had sons. Those were the things all mothers said. Luthien smiled weakly. Some things never changed. The tearing pain lessened a bit. For a moment, she felt like her mother had been there, her arm around Luthien, her voice saying "Everything is going to be okay. You'll see. Everything is going to be fine."

There came a point when Luthien didn't have the energy to keep crying. Lifting her head, she wiped at her eyes and nose with the back of a hand and looked over at the woman. Her eyes were probably all swolen and red and she looked terrible. She felt terrible. Incredibly drained and tired. The right shoulder of the woman's dress was soaked, making her feel a small pang of guilt. She hoped the woman wouldn't be upset. But judging from the woman's expression, she wasn't. She looked concerned and a bit troubled. Luthien tried to look like she was okay, but was only able to force a weak smile. The woman smiled as well, though with pity and understanding, and reached out a hand to lightly touch Luthien's cheek. She murmured something in a regretful tone, dropping her hand afterwards. She stood and held out a hand to Luthien. Luthien stared at it for a moment. If she took the woman's hand, she'd have to go back to the house and live in squallor and work until she dropped and probably have to pick lice out of her hair and never have clean underwear. But if she didn't, and kept going toward the forest, what assurance did she have that she'd get to go home? If the Valar didn't let her, there was no way she could come back. She'd be too embarassed, and the family would probably be mad at her, and she didn't have any idea where their neighbors (if you could call families that lived nowhere in sight 'neighbors') were and she didn't want to wander for days trying to find another house. But that was _if_ she didn't go home. Maybe the Valar would be decent this time and allow her to return home.

The woman said something, pulling Luthien out of her thoughts. The woman's hand was still extended. 'There's food and shelter and the hay's not bad to sleep on,' she reasoned to herself. 'Remember eating grass on the way here?' Luthien did, and if she ever had to repeat that experience, it would be too soon. Swallowing hard and pushing down her reservations and concerns, she took the woman's hand and let her help her to her feet.

To Be Continued… 


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I'm sorry this chapter took so long. Life got in the way. But it's here now and I hope to have the next chapter before Hell freezes over, which should be sometime in November as Michigan weather goes. A tip of the hat to the Hayfield of Inspiration, mowed before its time. 'Til we meet again next year.

THREE YEARS LATER

Cearo, balancing a young child on one hip, stood on top of a small hill not far from the house, her free hand shielding her eyes from the late afternoon sun while she looked for any signs of Algar, Helm, and Aelfrid, who had been gone for the last three months on patrol with others Riders, above the grasses. Rheda would have gone out herself to look for her husband and two of their sons, but she had to keep an eye on the pig roasting over the fire so it wouldn't burn. Cearo, never fond of working around the fire, had only too happily agreed, taking Wilone, the youngest child, with her so she wouldn't get in Rheda's way.

"Stupid hair," she muttered, dropping her hand from her eyes to pull hair out of her mouth and tuck it behind her ear. She knew she was fighting a losing battle and wondered how long it would stay behind her ear this time. She'd tried Rheda's suggestion for how to keep her hair from being pulled loose and blown into a rat's nest by the unceasing wind but it had become as much of a rat's nest as it always did. Stupid wind. Why did everything have to be so flat, instead of hills and mountains to block the wind, or at least some of it. And why did the grass have to grow so tall? It was such a pain to walk through when it was nearly as tall as she was. And the hair was back in the mouth. "I'm going inside. Tellan and Bram can stand out here and watch and pick _their_ hair out of their mouths constantly."

Cearo put her hand back up over her eyes and gave the horizon to the north one last quick scan before shifting Wilone around to her front so the child would be easier to carry.

"Wanna get down," Wilone said, trying to move out of Cearo's arms.

"Not here, honey. I want you right with me so you don't get lost in the grass." The thought of getting separated from Wilone in the grasses made her shudder slightly with horror.

"I won't. I'll hold onto your hand real tight." Wilone nodded emphatically twice then stared at Cearo with an expression that never failed to melt her heart.

Except this time. "When you're taller, love. Now put your arms around my neck and make sure you hold on."

Back at the house, she set Wilone down not far from the door and yelled to Rheda she was back. "There's no sign of them yet and Wilone is-running after one of the chickens again." She laughed and watched Wilone, yelling for the chicken to stop and play with her, chasing after a bird who was running as fast as its legs could carry it for a moment before going inside to help Rheda. "What do you need me to do?"

"Nothing, right now. Everything is under control." A loud squak of chicken indignation floated in through the door. Rheda stopped chopping a thick root and took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before releasing it slowly. "Or it was." She opened her eyes and, looking at Cearo with an almost pleading expression, asked, "Could you please go save her from having her arms pecked up?"

Cearo tried not to laugh. "I don't think Wilone is the one in need of saving, but yes, I'll go distract her from tormenting next week's dinner. Unless you'd like me to take over for you and you could go take a break and spend time with her."

Rheda shook her head. "I don't need a break. I'm fine." The chicken squaked again. "Go save Wilone and the chicken from each other."

"She's going to work herself to death," Cearo muttered under her breath as she went outside. Wilone's birth two years past had been a difficult one for Rheda and she'd never fully recovered, tiring faster and needing more help now, but she refused to slow down and let Cearo and her brothers ease her workload. Rheda had collapsed before and it was only a matter of time before she collapsed again.

Squirming toddler clutched against her chest, Cearo carried Wilone back to the house and set her down just inside the door and gave her her dolly to play with before going to stand by Rheda. "You've been working all day, you look tired, you need a break, go play with your daughter and rest for a bit. I can take care of whatever else needs to be done."

Without looking up, Rheda calmly replied, "I'm fine, Cearo. I don't need a break."

"Yes, you do. You're tired. Your hand is unsteady and the slices are unevenly cut. Go take a break. Let Wilone tell you about when we went flower picking earlier."

"The slices are-" Rheda sighed and half-heartedly pushed stray hair out of her

face. "I'll admit I'm a little tired but I'm almost done. I don't need a break."

"Rheda, _go rest_. Go play with Wilone." Wryly, she added, "I think I can handle the daunting task of slicing bread and I will make sure the pig doesn't burn. Tellan and I will take it off the fire when it's done." Wilone chose that moment to toddle over and tug on Rheda's skirt and ask her to play dolls with her. Rheda, meeting Cearo's smug expression with one of wry amusement, wordlessly handed the knife to Cearo and went to play with her daughter. Chucking under her breath, Cearo turned her attention to the loaf in front of her.

The men were still not home when Cearo finished the last of the supper preparations. 'The pig is off the fire, berries are chilling in the bowl in the stream, the neeps are roasting in the coals…what else?' Cearo thought as she looked around the cooking/eating area. Seeing nothing that had been forgotten, she wiped her hands on her overdress and told Rheda, who was busy listening to Wilone tell her about the flowers she'd picked earlier, she was going back out to the hill to watch for the men. As an afterthought, she took her wool wrap in case the men didn't arrive home until the air had begun evening cooling.

Out on the hill, Cearo wove herself a circlet of buttercups and daisies while bees flew from flower to flower, the buzzing sounding like 'Hurry! Hurry!', and butterflies sedately drifted through the air, looking so ethereal and weightless it seemed as if they simply floated along on the breeze, the illusion broken only by the occasional movement of wings. Cearo sighed and smiled, daydreaming about being a butterfly, just floating along, no worries. If she were a butterfly, she'd fly across the Mark and see the places and people Aldric and the other men told stories about when they returned from patrol. It wasn't fair she wasn't allowed to ride even as far as the nearest village because she was a woman and, therefore, needed to help Rheda but Kendric and Aelfrid and Helm and Daegol had been allowed to ride wherever they wanted since they were old enough to hold a short sword without dropping it. The younger ones couldn't go out without one of their older brothers, but at least they'd allowed to go and see something other than the endless stretches of grasslands around the house. It wasn't all bad, though. When she told Algar and Rheda she wanted to become a shieldmaiden, her lessons with a dagger and, later, short sword began the next day. Kenric, Helm, Aelfrid, Brego, and Daegol, in the tradition of brothers everywhere, had been happy to act as sparring partners since it allowed them to knock her around without getting in trouble. It had taken several years, but when she sparred with them now, she was able to have them on the ground, practice sword to their throat, about as often as they had her on the ground, sword at her throat. The expressions they wore when she did almost made up for being tied to the house.

The sun was a thin orange sliver low in the sky over the grass when Algar, Aelfrid, and Helm, all on horseback, becamae discernable in the distance. Cearo gave a shout of excitement and began waiving broadly, hoping they could see her. When the rider in the middle gave a waive in acknowledgement, Cearo turned and ran into the grass, roughly shoving it out of her was as she ran back to the house.

"They're here!" she exclaimed breathlessly, grabbing the doorframe as she ran into the house to stop herself. "I just saw them. I waived and one of them waived back." She leaned against the doorframe to catch her breath. "Anything I can do so the food's ready when they get here?"

Rheda, color high, pushed a stray piece of hair out of her face. "The berries and butter need to be brought in from the stream. Could you take Wilone?" The little girl was tugging at her mother's skirt and begging almost unceasingly to be picked up. Cearo smiled sympathetically.

"Of course. I'll show her the really pretty purple flowers that grow up there." The last part was directed at the little girl, whose face lit up at the mention of flowers. "You want to come with me?" She held out her hand to Wilone, who rushed over and wrapped her small one tightly around Cearo's pinky and ring fingers.

Wilone, anxious to help, insisted on picking a large handful of flowers to

decorate the butter with "to make it pretty for Daddy" and carrying the crock back herself. Cearo tried to convince her to carry the bowl of berries instead, as the crock of butter looked to be too heavy for Wilone, and was met with stubborn refusal. Finally, to make sure everything was ready when the men came inside, Cearo agreed Wilone could have the butter but only if she let Cearo carry her to the house.

"I wanna give it to Daddy," Wilone insisted after being picked up, arms tightly holding the crock.

"Make sure you tell Mommy that, so she doesn't try to," Cearo said as she walked back to the house, trying not to chuckle at how serious Wilone was. "You miss your Daddy a lot?"

"A lot a lot. I thought he'd _never_ get home."

"It does seem like that sometimes. Oh, look!" Cearo pointed to the men, who were now close enough to tell who was who. "There's your daddy, in the middle, and Helm and Aelfrid. You want to waive to them?" Silly question. Cearo had to reach up quickly to keep the butter crock from falling when Wilone let go to waive and yell to her father and eldest brothers.

Cearo was just setting Wilone down and asking her to please set the crock on the ground while they waited for Daddy when the man in question, flanked by his sons, galloped out of the grass, reigning in their horses not far from Cearo, who'd gone white. Wilone simply scowled. "You almost rode into us!" she chastened her father and brothers. "You need to be careful."

"It was Father's idea," Helm said as he dismounted. "He's the one who told us to frighten you and Cearo."

"And you said it was an excellent idea," Aelfrid countered as he started to lead his horse to the fenced pasture near the house. "Scaring Cearo, that is. Hey!" He picked a clump of dried mud and grass out of his hair Helm had thrown at him. "Don't attack me for being honest."

"Too honest, brother," Helm said. "But since we're being honest, why don't I tell her what you said last night?" Aelfrid shot him a dark look, which made Helm grin and open his mouth to start speaking again.

"Not now," Algar said, shoving one of his gloves into Helm's open mouth. "You can tell her all about what Aelfrid said _after_ we take care of the horses and put our equipment away." He turned to Wilone and picked her up, holding her upside down. "You look different than when I left, love," he said to her shoes. "What happened to you?"

"I'm upside down, Daddy," Wilone said between giggles.

"You are?" Wilone giggled. "So these are your feet." More giggling and something which sounded like "Yes". "I don't want to talk to your feet. Let's fix that." He turned Wilone right side up. "You're much prettier this way." He kissed her cheek. "Did we scare you with the horses?"

Wilone nodded emphatically. "Me and Ce'ro were real scared. I thought you were going to ride right over us."

"We would never do that. We only wanted to impress two of the most beautiful women in Rohan." He kissed the tip of her nose, making her giggle again.

"Who's the most beautiful, Daddy?"

"Your mommy," he said, looking over her shoulder at the woman standing in the doorway.

"You're saying that so I don't make you sleep outside tonight," Rheda remarked dryly as she walked over to Algar, her smile taking any sting out of her words.

"Never," Algar assured her, setting Wilone down and drawing Rheda in a tight hug. "I've missed you, love."

"I missed you too and I can't breathe." Algar set her back on her feet and loosened his hold. "Thank you. How was Patrol? All you three stink enough to knock an Orc dead. You always do. Wash in the stream before you come inside. I left clean clothes and soap for you three behind the house." Rheda rattled off the instructions as she walked back inside, never seemed to stop for breath. "We'll eat after you wash."

"I brought you butter, Daddy!" Wilone exclaimed, trying to lift up the crock but only getting it a short distance off the ground.

"Are those my favorite flowers in it?" Algar asked, kneeling to take the crock from Wilone. "Did you put them there?"

Blushing, she grinned and nodded. "I made it pretty for you, Daddy."

"Thank you, Little Bird. It's very pretty. I can't wait to taste how good the flowers have made it. Why don't you take it inside and after I stop smelling-"

"Like an orc!" Wilone exclaimed, giggling. "Mommy says you smell like an Orc!"

Algar nodded. "And since I don't want to smell like one of _those_, I'm going to wash up and put on clean clothes like Mommy wants me to and then we can eat and I'll taste your butter." He lightly kissed her forehead and set her down, telling her to go inside with Mommy.

"Walk with me, sister," Helm said casually, putting an arm around Cearo's shoulder as he lead his horse toward the pasture. "We can talk while I cool down _Sherwyn_."

"Don't believe a thing he tells you!" Aelfrid called as he and his horse caught up to them, an edge of fear to his voice.

Cearo laughed and looked over at him. "Why don't you tell me, then?" she teased. "Since I can't believe Helm."

"Just foolish talk after too much drink," he muttered, looking away, his neck turning red.

"Three pints is 'too much'?" Helm said. Aelfrid's color grew higher. To Cearo, he said, "The _eodred_ camped outside a town last night and we all went to the tavern for some ale. After we'd had several pints, talk turned to what we'd be most glad to return home to. This one" he jerked his head in Aelfrid's direction "says-"

"Don't forget to mention what you said, brother," Aelfrid interjected. "How glad you'd be to see Elfhild later tonight. Meeting under the cooked oak tree, if I recall correctly."

"We're to be married next month. What's your point?" Helm asked irritably.

"You were sitting next to Father when you said that."

"He _and_ her parents knew our plans before we left, idiot."

"So he's meeting Elfhild later," I spoke up. "So what?" I shrugged. "I think it's very romantic."

The brothers snorted with laughter. " Romantic'?" Alefrid said. "What does that have to do with what he said about wanting to tum-"

"I've missed her," Helm interrupted tersely, "and I'm looking forward to seeing her again. With her dress _on_," he added when Aelfrid started to say something, "and her brother will be there. But enough about what I said. What you said was _far_ more interesting."

"Don't even-" Aelfrid's voice had gone hard.

"'Don't even' _what_, Aelfrid?" Helm shot back. "Don't say anything? I don't have to. Father will say enough for the both of us." He smiled slyly. "You're too easy to get a reaction out of, Aelfie."

Aelfrid's neck and ears turned a deep red. "Don't call me that! And don't say anything," he snapped coldly, "or I'll tell Elfhild's father about the women I saw you with during patrol."

"You go too far, brother," Helm said, barely concealed anger heavy in his frosty tone, as he loosened Sherwyn's girth. Cearo backed away a few steps, afraid they might come to blows. "I told you months ago, when you first came to me, I wouldn't say anything and you shouldn't either. I stopped being bound by that when you shot your mouth off last night. When you were sober, no less." He gave Aelfrid a look of dismay and frustration. "_What_ were you thinking last night? You've always been good at getting yourself into messes but this tops the rest."

"Everything is going to be fine," Aelfrid snapped. "Just keep quiet and I'll handle Father." He removed Osric's halter and released the horse into the pasture before picking up the saddle and stalking off toward the barn.

"What's his problem?" Cearo asked Helm, taking the bridle he was holding out to her.

"He can't keep his mouth shut," Helm said offhandedly as he removed Sherwyn's bridle.

"So what'd he say this time?"

Helm smiled with what looked like a trace of sympathy for Aelfrid. "The wrong thing in front of the wrong people."

"Such as Father?"

"Among others." Cearo cringed, knowing full well what saying the wrong thing in front of Algar could mean.

"I hope for his sake it's nothing he'll get the strap for. But what's the big deal about you telling me?" She leaned against Sherwyn next to Helm. "Tell me. It must be good if he's so worried about you telling."

Helm didn't say anything until after he'd put Sherwyn to pasture and taken the saddle back from Cearo and put an arm around her shoulder. "I was only teasing him about telling you." Cearo started to proteset but Helm cut her off. "You'll find out soon enough."

"Why won't you tell me?"

"Because, brat" he pulled the tie off the end of her braid "Father doesn't need to know Elfhild's brother won't be with us tonight." The wind pulled Cearo's braid apart and blew the hair into her face.

"Did you _have_ to do that?" she snapped iritably, pushing the hair out of her eyes and mouth with one hand, holding the other out to Helm, palm up, for the leather thong she'd tied her hair with earlier. "Thanks." She raked her hair back and quickly braided and tied off the end before the wind could push much hair back into her mouth. "Helm, please-"

He lightly tugged on her braid. "You're worse than Wilone sometimes, pestering when you can't get what you want. I need to go wash up because I'm starving and you know how Ma is about us being clean before we eat." They both laughed. "Go tell Tellan he'll answer to me if he eats all the neeps."

Drat the man, refusing to tell her! He was doing it on purpose, just to annoy her, she knew it. Brothers! Whatever it was, she doubted it was any more shocking than what she'd heard her brothers talking about many times before when they didn't know she, or some of the younger ones, were listening. She didn't believe most of it, except for the things about drinking and hangovers, but if any of the rest was even a little bit true, that would explain why Rheda kept a close watch on her and her younger brothers when they went into the village. Too bad. It sounded like a lot of fun.

Aldric and Rheda were standing not far from the door, backs to her, when Cearo drew near to the house. Their voices were carrying on the wind but were low enough she couldn't make out what they were saying, and if their voices were low like that, it had to be important. Maybe they were talking about what Aelfrid had said? If they were, she wanted to hear what they were saying, but if she were caught listening they'd flay her alive. Last time, she couldn't sit down for two days. "Helm will be right in," she called. As she expected, they stopped talking "Rheda, what needs to be done?"

Rheda startled and spun around. "You startled me!"

"Sorry. Didn't mean to," she said when she reached Rheda. "I could say nothing next time and sneak right up on you if you'd like."

Rheda smiled wryly. "No, thank you. There's nothing left to be done except eat, and we're waiting on Helm." She looked pensive for a moment. "Did Helm say anything to you about last night?"

Cearo sighed. "No, unfortunately. He was teasing like he was going to but now he won't. Why?"

Rheda's expression relaxed. "Just curious. Would you mind going and telling Tellan it's time to eat? He's with Wilone near the creek."

For a moment, she wondered crossly why Rheda couldn't do it herself, but she pushed it aside quickly. Rheda looked ready to drop where she stood. "Sure. No problem." She'd ask Tellan what Aelfrid had said. Maybe he knew.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: _lig_, in Old English, means 'flame'. And on a totally different note, Monty Python is Teh Bomb.

To Cearo's disappointment, Tellan didn't know anything more than Kenric, Aelfrid, and Helm were home. "He's in trouble?" Tellan asked eagerly, eyes large with excitement, as they walked down the hill to the house.

"I don't know," Cearo said. "All I know is whatever he said, he didn't want Helm telling me."

"I bet he's in trouble!" Tellan was grinning now. "He probably did something like put horse poop in someone's boots and then said he did it!"

"That's something you'd do, brat," Cearo chided with a laugh, wishing she could swat him but her hands were full carrying Wilone. He was so much like-Cearo shook her head and swallowed hard to dislodge the lump which had suddenly formed there. She wasn't going to think about her real brothers. She'd already cried enough over the family she'd lost. More tears wouldn't bring them back to her, or her to them, any more than the ones already spilled. This was her family now, Tellan was her younger brother now (one of several, actually), this was her home. She'd cried out to Bema and the other Valar repeatedly, asking why such a thing had happened, but she'd received no answer and, three years on, she'd given up thinking she'd ever receive any. "They don't care," she muttered angrily, remembering their promise to her. "They forgot all about me and left me here. If I ever see them again, I'm going to tell them where they can stick it and demand-"

"C'ro?" Wilone asked, putting a hand on Cearo's cheek and breaking into her thoughts. "What you saying? Are you sad?"

With a start, Cearo realized she'd lapsed into English. 'Not hard to do from Rohirric,' she mused wryly. The two weren't so horribly different, which had been nice

when she was learning it. And there she went, getting lost in her memories again. Wilone was still studying her face with concern. "I'm remembering where I used to live," she told the little girl. "I miss my ma and pa and brothers."

Wilone looked confused. "We have the same ma, Cearo," she rebuked confidently.

"No, little one, your ma is not my ma. Not my real ma, the one who gave birth to me."

"You're not my sister?" Wilone looked ready to cry.

"Of course I am! You remember Aunt Freda?" Wilone nodded. "Remember how she took Hilda in when Hilda's parents died of the cough?" Wilone nodded again. "You ma took me in like Aunt Freda took in Hilda." Tellan ran ahead, his grumbling stomach taking precedence over hearing Cearo tell Wilone what he'd known since he was seven and Cearo had come home with his mother one night. "You're my sister in my heart." Cearo lightly kissed the tip of the little girl's nose. "And you always will be."

Wilone giggled. "I'm glad. Put me down."

Brego and Kenric, egged on by their brothers, were doing an excellent job of

beating each other senseless with practice swords in front of the barn as Cearo came down the hill behind the house. She shook her head and sighed quietly, wondering what it was about violence boys found so irresistible. Violence and food. She shook her head again. What did one have to do with the other? There had to be some link there to explain why boys loved both so much. She smirked. They did like their meat rather raw, or at least her brothers here did, so maybe it was the blood. But what was it about blood they liked so much? It was messy, it stank, it attracted flies, and it was a nightmare to wash out of clothing. If it i was /i a love of blood, then, she decided, it was that much more proof to support what she'd known for a long time: boys were absolutely crazy.

"I thought you were hungry," she remarked casually as she came to stand next to Aelfrid.

His eyes didn't leave the fight before him. "I am."

"You don't seem to be in any hurry, that's all."

He glanced at her this time. "What are you talking about?"

"Brego and Kenric. You know Ma's going to make them wash up before any of us eat."

"Yeah, so?" He looked irritated she was still talking and distracting him from watching his brothers pummel each other.

She looked up at him, trying not to smile too smugly. "The longer they fight, the longer before we eat, and the longer they fight, the dirtier they get and the longer it takes them to wash up and we'll all have to wait for them." She silently counted how long it took Aelfrid to realize what she was saying. 'Four seconds,' she gloated silently when a look of comprehension settled over his face. "Have fun breaking it up."

When all of the brothers were finally washed up and inside Cearo was ready to undo all their efforts at cleaning up by smashing their faces in for making her, Wilone, and their parents wait Eru only knew how long to eat and they'd been ravenous enough before the idiots decided before dinner was a great time for a fight. She wasn't the only one upset, however. Rheda was pulling at her belt, a sure sign she was highly agitated, and glancing frequently between the food growing cold on the table and the doorway. She didn't say anything when the boys entered, only glared at them. "Your father, Helm, and Aelfrid eat first," she said tersely. "The rest of you will wait." Cearo was sure if the meal had been delayed on any other night, and Helm and Aelfrid weren't two-thirds of the reason the meal was a special one, Rheda would've filled bowls for Algar, herself, Cearo, and Wilone and forced all the brothers to watch the four of them eat, allowing the boys to eat only when all the food was cold. She'd done it before.

To Cearo's surprise, after Helm, Algar, and Aelfrid filled their bowls, Rheda told her to fill her bowl. Cearo looked at her quizzically. "Your brothers obviously don't care when they eat so they can wait."

"Of course, Ma." Cearo bit her lip to keep from laughing at the chorus of protests that arose from her brothers and took pleasure in not having to grab and snatch and fill her bowl at a frantic pace before all the food was gone. Wilone didn't have to face the fierce competition yet; Algar would fill her bowl for her when he filled his.

Cearo nearly dropped the water buckets she was carrying when Helm asked her to come with him that night. "Why me?" she asked, suspicious. "Isn't her brother going to be there? Are you trying to match us up?" Helm laughed loudly-a little too loudly for her liking. "I'm almost old enough to marry and so is he," she snapped. "It's not that funny of an idea."

"I'm sorry, it's not that. Okay, it is," he admitted a moment later. "You and he are nothing alike and you'd be absolutely miserable together. I can almost hear the arguments you two would have."

Cearo smiled in spite of herself. "I don't think he gets dressed in the morning unless his mother tells him what to wear," she said dryly. "I hope Elfhild doesn't turn out anything like her mother."

"She won't," Helm said firmly. "I'm asking you now because I forgot to ask earlier. Elfhild said she'd like to see you."

"You could've told me that before you left for patrol."

"I told you, I forgot."

'And Brego has learned to cook,' she thought sarcastically. Helm never forgot. The truth was probably that Elfhild's brother wasn't actually going to be there and he knew full well what their parents would say if it got back to them no one had been there with Elfhild and Helm. "Have you told Pa and Ma?" Helm nodded. "And Ma doesn't mind me leaving before chores are done?"

"She said bring the water in and you can go."

Cearo started walking toward the house again. "I love you, Helm, but you're a terrible liar. You know as well as me Ma would never-"

"So ask her yourself. Meet me at the pasture." He turned and walked away

before she could say anything else.

"Fine, I will!" she shouted after him.

"I said you could," Rheda told Cearo when she asked if it was okay to leave with Helm.

"Thank you." Cearo was shocked. Rheda never let anyone not do their chores unless they were physically unable to do them.

"Just this once," Rheda teased with a sly smile. Cearo laughed and promised to

do all the cleanup herself the next night.

Out at the pasture, Cearo was surprised to see Aelfrid putting a saddle on Osric. Or she thought it was Aelfrid. The newly-full moon was directly in front of her as she walked and it was hard to tell which brother, exactly, was out there with Helm but none of the other brothers had horses in the pasture tonight besides Helm and Aelfrid so he was the only other one who had any reason to be saddling his horse in the pasture. Which begged another question: why was he saddling his horse? Unless…Cearo giggled. So that's what he was in trouble with Father over. Aelfrid had a sweetheart. And if he was in trouble with Father over her, he'd be in even more trouble if Father knew he was going to see her. 'Oh, this is great!' Cearo gloated silently. 'He's going to owe me for this one! _Both_ of them are!'

Taking a tip from 'Dan and 'Ro, she stopped walking, knelt, and took off her shoes so she could sneak up on Aelfrid quietly and surprise him. Helm had probably already told him she was coming, but they were already going to be mad at her for threatening to tell on Aelfrid so she was going to go for broke and give them plenty of reasons to pound her the next time they practiced fighting. She knew she'd regret giving them all the reasons but, for now, it would be fun.

Her plan worked perfectly and she was able to slip right up behind Aelfrid without him noticing and she'd later swear to the fact she saw air between his feet and the ground when, standing directly behind him, she said, "Who's the girl?" Her triumph was short-lived because, a moment later, she found herself flat on her back, pinned down by an upset older brother who was breathing rather heavily for someone only tacking up his horse a moment before.

"What girl?" he asked.

"Quit kneeling on my legs."

"You didn't answer my question."

"The one you're sneaking off to see, stupid. Now get off my legs!"

He smiled widely, shifting his weight only slightly. "Am I hurting you?"

"No, it feels great," she said sarcastically. "You know I love this kind of thing. Would you mind getting _totally_ off my legs before you break them?"

"And get kicked?"

"You'll have to eventually."

"What, get kicked?"

"That'll happen, too, if you don't get off my legs." She glared at him for added effect.

"If I stay on your legs, how can you kick me?" He laughed when she glared at him harder.

"Get off my legs now or I promise, I _will_ kick you later. Repeatedly. In very painful places." He shifted his weight slightly. "AELFRID!"

Helm appeared behind Aelfrid and pulled him off Cearo. "Do you want Ma and

Pa coming up here, you moron?" Helm barked in a low voice. "Finish with Osric and let's go."

"Thanks," Cearo said to Helm as she followed him back to Sherwyn. "Who's Aelfrid meeting?"

"You'll have to ask him. You're riding with him."

"I am _not_ riding with him."

"You can't ride with me."

"Why not?"

"Because Elfhild will be." He mounted Sherwyn.

"Can't I ride with you until we meet up with her?" She knew she was whining but she didn't care.

"No."

She grabbed Sherwyn's bridle. "Helm-" The sensation of suddenly being lifted up off the ground at a high rate of speed pushed every coherent thought from her mind. Only when, after an endless few seconds, she felt her bottom connect with something solid and firm (and moving, but she'd consider that in a moment) did she regain enough of her senses to look around her shakily. She was on a horse, which was walking, and there was an arm around her waist. And the person behind her was laughing. "Aelfrid," she said, her voice cracking, "I am going to kill you later. But not before I maim you and pull off your sensitive bits with my bare hands." To her ire, he only laughed louder. "You're lucky I didn't piss myself with fright."

"It didn't seem likely you'd ride with me any other way," he quipped, "and I know Helm is eager to see Elfhild."

"That doesn't mean you have to scare me to death."

"Like you did to me?"

"You're a poor Rider if your sister can sneak up on you and surprise you. Eru help you if an enemy ever does."

He tugged gently on the end of her braid. "No enemy is going to be sneaking up

on me barefoot in the middle of a pasture, Lig."

"I told you not to call me that!"

"What else would I do?"

"Not scare me, not pull my hair, and not call me 'lig'?" she suggested. "Be nice to me?"

He snickered. "You deserved to be scared, Lig, for doing it to me." He tugged her braid again.

"Stop!" she demanded. "Keep doing it and I'll tell Ma you pinned me to the ground tonight!"

"You deserved it." His voice cracked. She'd rattled him.

"So who are you meeting tonight?" she asked again. "And why can't Ma and Pa know?"

"I'm not meeting anyone."

She smirked. "I don't believe you. You said you missed someone and you got real upset when Helm threatened to tell me and he didn't mention you were going with him tonight and the only reason I can think he wouldn't tell me that is because he didn't want me mentioning it to Ma when I talked to her so you're not supposed to be gone tonight. So who are you meeting?" She studied his face and tried to find some indication of what was going on, some hint that would tell her what she wanted to know.

"I'm not meeting anyone."

His voice remained steady. The boy was a good liar. "I'll find out soon enough who it is. And I'll tell Ma and Pa you went tonight."

"You can't." And there went his voice, cracking again.

It was all Cearo could do not to break out in a huge grin. Blackmail goldmine! "Why not?"

"Because," Helm said, riding up next to them, "it would cause trouble for more people than just Aelfrid. You can't tell Ma and Pa."

"What's the big deal? So Aelfrid has a sweetheart."

"You're assuming that's it," Helm said evenly.

"So what's going on, if that's not it?"

"You'll find out when you need to, Lig." Cearo's eyes narrowed when Helm used that horrid name and his lips twitched as he tried not to smile. "If you won't keep quiet because Aelfrid is asking you to, keep quiet because I am."

"For a price."

"Do you like things remaining calm?" Helm asked. Cearo nodded. "Then you'll be quiet."

"If you tell me what's going on, I will."

"It's not my place to say anything," Helm said. "That's for Aelfrid to do." Cearo looked at the man she was riding with.

"Later," was all he said.

"You're red!" she exclaimed. "You're blushing about something!"

"Cearo, leave it," Helm said.

Cearo glanced at Helm, who gave her a hard look. "For now. I want to know what's going on, though."

"We're getting married next weekend," Aelfrid said. "That's the secret. You and me are getting married next weekend."

Cearo twisted around so fast she was sured she pulled a muscle in her side. "WHAT are you talking about?" Only after a moment did she realize he was laughing and he hadn't been serious. She smacked him. "Aelfrid! That's not funny!"

"Actually, it is," Helm said.

"Maybe to you," she grumbled, turning back around to face forward. "Since

you're not going to tell me what's going on, tell me what patrol was like. All the stuff you can't say in front of Ma and Pa and the brats."

The rest of the ride to meet Elfhild was filled with Aelfrid and Helm telling all the good stuff about patrol, like the night they snuck a squirrel into Gamling's bedroll and when someone put too many onions into Brecca's stew after he said he hated them. Among other stories. She could read between the lines when they talked about the inns they'd come across on occasion and understood what Aelfrid had been talking about earlier when he threatened to tell Pa about the women he'd seen Helm with. She wondered if Elfhild wouldn't be more upset to find out but she kept that to herself. What Elfhild didn't know wouldn't hurt any of them. As long as Helm stopped with the women after he married, no one ever needed to find out.

At the tree, Elfhild and her brother were waiting. Aelfrid slowed Osric, letting Helm get ahead of them, and kept Osric at a slow walk, which allowed Cearo to get a clear view of Helm pulling Sherwyn to a stop, almost vaulting off the horse, and running to Elfhild, sweeping her up into a tight, passionate embrace. Cearo watched the whole thing silently, wondering if she'd ever find anyone who'd act like that after three months on patrol. 'Since I'm stuck here' she groused silently. 'Never going home'. Damn the Valar straight to Angband via Mordor for that. She'd long since stopped crying herself to sleep at night over being forgotten and left in this forsaken, primitive place. It wasn't all bad, but…she sighed. She didn't want to end up like Rheda, worn to a nub after years of near-endless childbearing and hard, grueling work. When she gave birth to children, she wanted see them grow up and bear children of their own and she knew the odds against that happening here. Rheda had buried more than half her children, most of them dying before the age of five.

Aelfrid calling her name pulled her out of her thoughts. "Yeah?"

"What's wrong? You're never quiet."

"Are you saying I talk all the time?"

"Did I say that?"

"In as many words."

"You're not making fun of Helm and Elfhild. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just thinking."

"About what?"

"When it's my turn to marry."

"You don't sound happy about that."

"I was thinking how so many of the children I'll give birth to will die. That wouldn't happen at home-where I come from."

He gave her a squeeze with the arm he had around her waist. "They may still find you."

"It's been three years. If they were going to find me, they would by now. If they even knew where to look." Which they wouldn't. The police would have written her off as a runaway and her family would-she didn't know, but they'd be wondering how she could've walked right off the face of the planet, for all intents and purposes. She wondered if she'd left any tracks in the woods and if people had wondered how her steps had just vanished into thin air, just stopped mid-path. "You're stuck with me now."

"What, we'll never get rid of you?" he said with mock horror. "We'll always have to see your hair glowing in the dark?"

"Haha," she said dryly, a smile tugging at her lips. "I don't know what I'd do if I went back home now anyway. I'm used to living here and I don't know what I'd do if I had to lose another family. It was bad enough the first time."

"Does that mean you like us?" he teased.

"I don't know why but I do. I'm crazy, I know."

"Not crazy, smart. You see what a great bunch of guys we are and you're glad to do whatever you can for us."

"Right. And you beat me up and tease me in return. Yeah, a real great reason to stick around. I'm here for your mother. The rest of you can go fend for yourselves for all I care. You're Riders. You all know how."

"We need you and Ma to sew our clothes and cook for us!"

"You all can cook for yourselves. What do you do on patrol?"

"You cook better than we do. Much better."

"Get yourself a slave if that's all you want," she shot back.

"Slaves cost money." She jabbed an elbow into his gut and was rewarded with a grunt. "You also make great clothes," he said a moment later, sounding a bit out of breath. "You do those really nice designs on them, too."

She blushed at the unexpected compliment. "Thank you." Among the things in her backpack that day, she'd had an embroidery project she'd been working on during study hall and she'd used some of her threads on the chemise Rheda gave her not long after she'd arrived. The others had seen that and wanted her to make their clothes look good. She used wool thread now and more primitive needles so the designs weren't as intricate or nice now, or at least what she called 'nice'. Everyone else had liked them and she'd begun embroidering on clothes to trade for things we needed each spring in town. For next year, there was talk of taking some things to Edoras to sell and trade.

"Everyone loves the desgins you put on our cloaks."

"So I've been told. Speaking of the cloaks, do any of your clothes need repair from patrol?" To her horror, Aelfrid immediately began to give her a list of repairs that needed to be made. "Tell me later," she interrupted. "I didn't realize you wanted me to make you new clothing."

"It's just a few things."

"You're not the one who has to repair them all!"

"What do you think we did while we were on patrol?"

"All I know is you're asking me to repair rips and tears and sew sleeves back on and between the three of you it's not going to be a small amount of work." She sighed. "Bring me your things tomorrow. I'll talk to Helm and Pa and get what they need repaired."

Elfhild's brother, Haleth, came over then, much to Cearo's annoyance. The boy was nice enough but she doubted if a duller person had ever lived. His idea of fun was to watch sheep graze. Or something like that. He'd told her once but the idea of doing something so mind-numbingly boring was horrifying so she'd changed the subject so she didn't have to think about it anymore. He even looked dull, with lank white-blonde hair and flat slate-blue eyes and was tall and gangly. She said the socially appropriate things when he greeted her and tried to make an excuse for why she and Aelfrid couldn't stay and talk but before she could Aelfrid started talking with him about that year's crops and she had to dismount because Aelfrid wanted to and she was forced to follow along with the two guys while they talked about incredibly boring things. 'Just my luck,' she thought to herself petulently, 'I get stuck listening to oral sleeping pills. If I fall asleep mid-step I won't be surprised." If Helm wouldn't have killed her later for interrupting him and Elfhild, she'd have ditched Aelfrid and Mr. Boredom.

To entertain herself, she began humming and, to her surprise, found she was humming Monty Python's 'The Lumberjack Song'. She grinned and tried not to start laughing. "I'm a lumberjack and I'm okay," she sang under her breath. "I wish I'd been girlie, just like my dear Papa."

"Did you say something, Cearo?" Haleth asked, looking back at her.

"No, nothing," she said, trying to keep a straight face and failing, the memory of Eric Idle singing away proudly about dressing in women's clothing and hanging around in bars just too funny. "It's nothing," she managed to choke out. "Really."

"What's so funny?" Aelfrid asked when she stopped laughing.

"Just a song I used to know."

"Really?" Aelfrid stopped walking and turned to face her. She rarely talked about where she'd come from, other than to say it was a long way away and very different from Rohan. The family had tried to find out more but had given up when she hadn't given any details and said she'd rather not talk about it.

Cearo shrugged nervously. "I don't know why I started humming it. Strange what you remember."

Aelfrid wasn't going to let it go. "Will you sing it for us? It has a nice tune."

"You won't understand any of it. It would be hard to translate." If there was a

Rohirric word for 'lumberjack', she didn't know it and there definitely weren't words for 'high heels', 'suspenders', and 'bra'. Especially not 'bra'.

"That's okay," Haleth spoke up. "You have a nice voice. Sing it anyway."

"I'd rather not." She started walking again, quickly, to get away from the guys. Even if it would've been easy to translate, she didn't want to sing it. She hadn't really thought about her old life for a while and she liked it that way. She didn't want to remember because remembering hurt and she'd had enough of the hurting. That part of her life, the one in America, was over. She wasn't Luthien, spoiled teenager whose only worries were getting a date to the prom and her brothers hacking her computer (something which seemed very strange and foreign now), anymore. She was Cearo, adopted older daughter of Rheda and Algar, who had seven brothers and one adorable younger sister and a good, if hard, life somewhere in northwest Rohan two days from Fangorn.

Aelfrid grabbed her arm as she passed him. "Cearo."

She looked up at him, annoyed. "What? I don't want to sing."

"Please? You do have a nice voice."

"I-okay," she conceeded with a sigh. 'What?' her mind screamed. 'Why, for the love of all that's green and grassy, did you say you would? You want to forget all that, remember?' She couldn't explain why she'd agreed, either, other than Aelfrid really wanted her to. It had to be the puppy eyes. He was good with those.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: The language gets a bit colorful in a few spots.

Helm, Aelfrid, and Cearo were loudly singing 'The Lumberjack Song' when they arrived back home, not noticing Algar and Rheda were standing by the pasture gate until they were a few dozen feet away. "Oh. Crap," Aelfrid said under his breath as he stopped Osric. "We. Are dead."

"What?" Cearo asked and then remembered Aelfrid had probably snuck out tonight. "You're in a lot of trouble if they're waiting out here for you."

"More than you know."

"Cearo, go inside," Algar said stiffly as he strode toward Osric.

"Yes, Pa," she replied, already dismounting. Whatever was going on, she didn't want to be around for it-at least, not where she could be seen. She walked toward the house until she heard Algar start yelling at Aelfrid before changing direction and heading up to the large tree not far from the pasture, making sure to keep to the shadows, and pulled up her tunic and shift, shoving the extra material into the belt, before grabbing a low-growing limb and hoisting herself up into the branches.

"We told you to stay here tonight," Algar was saying angrilly to Aelfrid as he paced in front of the brothers. "And you!" he said to Helm, stopping suddenly in front of him. "You, of all people, I would never expect to be helping him get around me and sneak around!"

"How interesting," a low voice said from above Cearo. Surprised, she nearly fell off the branch she was sitting on but managed to keep her grip and her balance.

"Hello, Brego," she said flatly, not surprised he was out here. If there was trouble, Brego was rarely far away and it was usually of his devising, though he was good at making it look like someone else's fault. She loathed him with a passion and was looking forward to when he married and moved out. Too bad that meant some poor woman would be burdened with him. The only person he cared about was himself and getting what he wanted and he didn't care who he hurt in the process. "So what's your reason for getting your brothers in trouble tonight? Couldn't find any small animals to torture?"

"What makes you think I had anything to do with this? They can find trouble good enough on their own."

"No one needs to find it when you're around," she shot back. "You're always making sure it finds us." Cearo ground her teeth when Brego laughed.

"That's not always true," he chided

"But it usually is."

"So you say."

"We both know it's true. Now shut up so I can hear what Pa is saying." She lay forward on the branch and scooched forward on her belly so she could hear better. Aldric was ranting on about Aelfrid disobeying him and ignoring him as he paced, saying how he should take a thick branch to Aelefrid's backside until he bled, with Rheda and Helm trying to get a word in when Algar stopped long enough to draw breath. Aelfrid was still on Osric and while she couldn't see his face, it was easy enough to imagine the sullen, petulent expression he must have been wearing. The whole scene looked comical and Cearo had to pinch her lips together tightly to keep from laughing. Now if Algar would only get to the good stuff and start going on about why he'd told Aelfrid not to go anywhere tonight. Above her, she heard Brego chuckling and making the occasional comment under his breath. She rolled her eyes and wished she knew of a way to unseat him from the branch. That would shut him up and get him back for ratting out Aelfrid.

Finally, Algar stopped pacing. "Well?" he snapped, standing in front of Osric. "What do you have to say for yourself?" Aelfrid was silent, which only made his father angrier. "I have a good mind not only to take a branch to you but to send-"

"Algar," Rheda said loudly, placing a hand on his arm, "it's late and dawn comes early this time of year. We can talk about this tomorrow." She glanced back at the house then added, "We also have an audience." Cearo looked to see what she was talking about and saw Tellan and Grindan standing not far from the doorway. She smirked slightly. Between their parents and the younger brothers, Aelfrid wasn't going to have a moment's peace tomorrow. Poor boy!

Algar said something in a low voice Cearo didn't catch, but whatever he'd said, it set everyone into motion. He and Rheda walked back toward the house, Helm led Sherwyn toward the barn, and Aelfrid wheeled Osric around and took off at a gallop.

"I told you, they need no help from me," Brego said, his voice now coming from directly behind her. "Nice legs, by the way." Startled, Cearo began to sit up and turn around and promptly lost her balance. She felt a scream start to rise in her throat as the ground began to rush up at her but it was cut off when her fall was abruptly stopped by something grabbing both her ankles. "You're lucky I'm here," Brego said dryly as he pulled her back up into the tree.

"I wouldn't have fallen if you hadn't surprised me," she retorted with as much pride as she could muster. "How did you know Aelfrid would be in trouble unless you were behind it?"

"Because, silly girl," he explained as he helped her get her seat next to him, "I heard Pa telling Aelfrid to stay here tonight and I heard him later asking where Aelfrid was and the way he was cursing out here by the pasture when he looked to see where Osric was."

"Oh." Yeah. That made sense. She felt rather stupid now and Brego's laughter at her expression wasn't helping. Of all the people to look stupid in front of….

"I'm not the monster you seem to think I am, Cearo." He gave her braid a gentle tug.

She jerked it out of his hand. "You're an selfish ass and what is it with you all thinking it's fun to pull in my braid? It's not a freakin' toy!" She glared at him for a long moment, then rolled her eyes and looked out at the horizon beyond the pasture, searching for any sign of Aelfrid returning. "I wonder what Pa's so uptight about?"

"What?" Brego asked, and Cearo realized with a start she'd been thinking out loud in English. In Rohirric, she said, "I said, I wonder what Pa's so upset about."

"You heard everything Pa said tonight and you don't know why he's upset." Disbelief hung heavy on his words. "I knew you were dense, but-"

"Not that Aelfrid snuck out," she snapped. "Why he wanted Aelfrid to stay home in the first place. I'm pretty sure it's because Aelfrid is sweet on some girl and Pa wants him to stay away from her" next to her, Brego made a sound like a cough "but no one will tell me anything so I have no idea what's really going on." She looked over at Brego. "You always seem to know everything that's going on. Why is Pa so upset? Aelfrid is old enough to start calling on girls so it can't be that."

Brego was smiling slightly. "The girl isn't old enough yet."

"I knew it!" she cried triumphantly. She looked over at Brego. "So, who is she?"

Cearo could've sworn a look of predatory triumph flashed across his face but it

came and went so fast she wasn't sure it wasn't just a trick of the shadows. "Ask Aelfrid."

"Don't play games with me, Brego. You've always been only too happy to make everyone else's secrets public knowledge so don't start playing secret-keeper now. Tell me."

"I'm not sure you really want to know." The patronization and condescention in his tone made her want to slap him.

"Yes, I do," she said hotly. "I'm the only one in this family who doesn't know what's going on. Helm refused to tell me, saying I should ask Aelfrid. Ma asked me if I knew and looked worried sick until I said I didn't and then she practically collapsed with relief. I asked both Aelfrid and Helm tonight when we were out and neither would tell me a single thing. I'm not a child anymore and I don't want to be treated like one!"

"You really should ask Aelfrid."

"Right." If that was the way he wanted to be…. "I'm sure Pa would love to know what i you /i say and do when you're on patrol. I heard the most i interesting /i things about you and a woman near the Gap." She smirked, certain he wanted that kept silent.

"Pa already knows." He laughed at the way her face fell. "Good try, though. You're getting better." He was silent for a long moment. "It's you."

"What?" She couldn't have heard him right.

"The girl he talked about on patrol. It's you. I'm serious," he said when she glared at him and smacked his arm. "It's you."

"You are so full of shit," she said disgustedly. "I should've known you'd just mess with me. Get out of my way. I need to climb down."

"Cearo, I'm serious. Why do you think no one would tell you anything? Why do you think Ma was so worried and so relieved when you told her you hadn't heard

anything?"

"Oh, fucking hell," she exclaimed softly, his words making a terrible kind of sense.

"They wanted to wait until your birthday next month, when you're twenty, to tell you," Brego said in a low voice.

"Then why did you tell me tonight?"

"Because you insisted," he teased gently. "And you deserve to know."

"You're the only one who seems to think so," she murmured, looking down at her lap, where her hands were playing with her bunched-up skirts. "I'm his sister. You can't love your sister that way."

"You're not our sister." Cearo looked up at Brego, blood frozen in her veins. He still saw her as an outsider, and intruder. She should have known. "You are, in a way. But you came to us when you were sixteen. You're more like the cousin from another part of the Mark we say you are than a true sister." He gave her a smile. "Maybe if you'd been a plain little stick it would've been easier to see you as a sister. An annoying sister who drives us crazy and can kick our butts now when we're practicing with short swords and daggers," he teased, making her crack a smile. "You're not a plain little stick, though. You never have been." His tone became serious again. "You're a very pretty girl. Woman," he corrected himself quickly. "Or you will be next month. It's very hard to see you as a sister. Very hard," he repeated and Cearo felt her mouth go dry.

"I need to go," she said, or would have but she only got out "I need" before his mouth was on hers. She stared at him, wide-eyed, wondering what the heck had gotten into the guys all of a sudden and what the fastest way out of this nightmare was. This was not how she'd pictured her first kiss being. She thought she'd be kissed by a guy she liked, a guy she wanted kissing her, and she'd be kissing him back, maybe on a bench somewhere or on her parents' deck, not stuck up in some tree in Rohan being kissed by a quasi-brother she considered to be walking slime who'd just told her another quasi-brother wanted her and then decided to make his own feelings known by kissing her. She thought she'd be putting her arms around his neck or something, not frozen stiff with shock like she was right now and her eyes wouldn't be open. This was all wrong!

To her great relief, he stopped kissing her a moment later. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have done that. Aelfrid was enough shock for one night. I'm sorry." Cearo just stared at him mutely, no idea what to say and not sure she could get the words out even if she did. Her mind was a jumble of a million and one thoughts, all zooming around and crashing into one another. The only thing she was sure of was that she wanted to get far, far away from this whole mess as quickly as possible. She'd get out of the tree as soon as Brego was gone and she'd get her horse and she'd ride into town. She'd go to Elfhild and promise to tell them everything in the morning. Elfhild could act as a go-between for her and the family and things could get worked out that way. "I should go," Brego said, breaking the long silence that was stretching between them.

Cearo nodded stiffly and looked down at her lap, eager to be alone.

Someone was yelling. She looked up in the direction of the voice as Brego climbed up into the higher branches to get a better view of who was coming and saw a rider galloping toward the house, his tone full of alarm and fear. She felt a chill crawl slowly across her skin with prickly claws. The only thing she knew of which would have someone yelling like that was

"ORCS!" the persons yelled, now close enough to make out what he was saying. Cearo's stomach plunged and she felt like throwing up. This was the second time in three months. Rheda would need her. Wilone and Tellan needed to be kept safe. She needed her dagger. Where was Aelfrid? Oh, he was the rider. Why hadn't she recognized his voice before? She needed to go and get Tellan and Wilone and-

"Stay here," Brego barked at her as he scrambled down to the ground.

"The kids. I need to get them."

"Stay here. We'll bring them to you."

"No. I'll get them." She started to shift around to start climing down. "You and your brothers and Pa have enough to do. Ma and I will get the kids."

"Stay. Here," he snapped, obviously furious to still be talking to her. "Ma will bring them out here."

"Brego-"

"Shut up and do as I say." Before she could argue with him further, he dropped off the branch to the ground below and sprinted to the house. Cearo, miffed at being told to just sit and wait, moved so she was sitting against the trunk and straddling the branch, legs dangling, and watched Aelfrid thunder up and ride into the barn. A short time later, Aelfrid was galloping out of the barn with the family's horses and breeding stock behind him. Cearo watched them head south and hoped wherever Aelfrid was taking them, it would be far enough away. The last time orcs had attacked, they'd made off with several of their best mares, all of which were pregnant. Thank Bema, most of the pregnant mares and the stallion were in the barn that night so while things would be tight due to fewer horses to sell in two years' time, they would still have horses to sell and trade. Since the last raid, they'd kept all the horses in the barn at night. None of the horses this year were black and Cearo wondered if the mares still would've been taken if they had black horses or if they'd have left the mares and only taken the blacks. Probably not. The idea of their horses being used by the Dark Lord sickened her. Poor creatures. His defeat wouldn't come soon enough.

The sound of clamorous male shouting brought her back to the present and she saw Rheda hurrying toward the tree with a fussing Wilone, Tellan jogging close behind her, his face paler than usual, though that could've just been a trick of the moonlight. Three months ago, when he'd been told to go with Cearo to hide, he'd whinged loudly about not being allowed to fight and being treated like a child. He continued to grumble when they were up in the tree, stopping only when he what his father and brothers were fighting with out in the pasture.

"Those are orcs?" Tellan had asked Cearo, voice shaking.

"Yes." She heard her own voice crack and squeak from fear.

"They're big."

"Yes."

"Why do they want our horses? Don't they have their own? Why don't they buy them or trade us something for them?"

"Because orcs are evil and their master is even more evil and they don't see anything wrong with taking what they want."

"I hope Pa and Grindan will be okay."

"So do I." Wilone had started whimpering again then so Cearo turned her attention to the little girl, her words meant to soothe herself as much as Wilone.

Now they were back again for more horses and this time, Tellan hadn't said a word as he hoisted Wilone up to Cearo and allowed himself to be boosted up to the lowest limb and currently on the branch above her, humming softly.

'Sweet Bema,' she thought to herself as she held Wilone close, 'let this be over soon'. At least this time, though they'd had warning the orcs were coming and had the chance to gather up the horses which were out to pasture and take them elsewhere.

Grindan, riding bareback on a chestnut mare, was about to lead the remaining horses out of the pasture when the leader of the orcs, now close enough their stench on the breeze was gagging, let out a roar and veered in Grindan's direction. Cearo grabbed Wilone tighter and began praying to Bema and Eru under her breath. 'Ride fast,' she silently implored her brother. 'Be safe.'

It was over quickly. Grindan had enough of a lead on the orcs he and the horses were able to get away. Cearo was surprised he hadn't fallen off the chestnut with as fast as the terrified animal had been galloping. Algar, Helm, Brego, and Kenric gave chase to the orcs and managed to kill a few without sustaining any serious injury. Through it all, Tellan continued to hum the same tune over and over, his feet swinging rhythmically to the beat, and Wilone kept her face buried in Cearo's chest, whimpering about something which might have been how scary the orcs were but it was hard to make out her muffled words. Where Rheda had gone, Cearo didn't know, but when the men had managed to drive off what orcs were still able to run, Rheda reappeared and assisted them with moving the carcases of the two they'd slain before coming over to the tree for Wilone.

"Are you all okay?" she asked as Cearo lowered Wilone into her upstretched arms.

"Shaken but fine." Cearo would've smiled but with the danger past, she was feeling as if someone had pulled a plug at the bottom of her energy supply and drained it dry. "I'm glad it was over quickly and the horses are safe."

"We all are," Rheda said with emotion. "I'm worried about Aelfrid, though. With orcs raiding tonight…."

"He's fine," Cearo said. "He's the one who shouted the warning and he took all the horses from the barn somewhere to the south."

"Bema be thanked," Rheda said, leaning against the tree. "I was so worried about him." Pause. "I hope he comes back soon. Eru only knows if he'll run into orcs coming back."

"If he took the horses where I think he did, he's not far away and the orcs are going to have to run for awhile before they find another farm to raid so they won't be around here. Go inside and go back to sleep."

"We all need to." She adjusted Wilone in her arms. "We'll talk about why you were in the tree and what you heard tomorrow." She looked up at Cearo for a long moment, then turned and started back to the house.

A dark shape appeared next to Cearo on the branch. "You heard what her and Pa were yelling about?" Tellan asked, punctuating his question with a yawn.

"Yes. Move. I need to get down." In the excitement, she'd forgotten about all of that but now it was rushing back and all she wanted to do was get on her horse and ride far away. Too bad Aelfrid had taken Cwen with him or she probably would have, orcs in the area be hanged. Ma was right. Tomorrow, they'd talk about what she'd heard.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: 'galdricge' means 'enchantress' in Old English.

She was sitting, cross-legged, at the top of the small rise just outside of the village, the bottom of her sketchpad resting on her lap, oblivious to everything but the drawing of her family that she was working on. It should not have been hard, since it was just her mother, father, and brothers, after all, but it was hard to picture their faces in her memory now. She'd struggled to remember Elrohir's lopsided smile or the scheming glint that always seemed to be in Elladan's eye and had she been taller than 'Dan or had he been taller than her? It frustrated her that she could not remember those details as she tried to remember her family and that it was Rheda, Algar and their sons that came to mind the quickest now. That was why she had started the drawing, so that she would have something to look at and remind her where she had come from and who she had left behind.

She had been at it most of the day and now, finally, it was nearly complete. All that was needed was a slight adjustment to 'Dan's cowlick and-

"Luthien."

Cearo shrieked and tossed the sketchpad away. The drawing had spoken! Had she been in the sun too long? That was probably it.

She let out a shaky sigh and leaned forward to grab her sketchpad. She had just had too much sun. She would go inside, get a drink of water, and take a break from drawing until tomorrow.

The drawing spoke again, and this time Cearo saw Elrohir's lips move, calling her 'Lulu'.

I've been in the sun i way /i too long,' she thought to herself. "This isn't real," she said out loud.

Elrohir continued to speak.

"We miss you. Come home."

He took his hands out of his pockets and hugged himself just like Cearo remembered him doing. Next to him, Elladan put a hand on 'Ro's shoulder and looked up at her sadly. Cearo stared at the drawing, unable to look away. What was going on? Did the Valar have something to do with this? If they did, they had taken their fine time showing up again.

"Why did you leave us?" 'Ro started to cry, little pencil tears running down his cheeks.

"I didn't want to," she said, kneeling. "I wasn't planning to. I wanted to come home but the Valar wouldn't let me."

"Huh?" 'Ro asked. "What'd you say, Lulu?"

"I said I didn't plan to leave and I'd come home if I could."

'Ro was still looking confused. She repeated herself again, slower that time. 'Ro scowled.

"Speak English, Lulu," he groused. "What language is that? Black Speech?"

Last night's orc attack flooded through her mind and she began to shake. "Don't i ever /i say anything like that ever again," she said through clenched teeth. "Of course I'm speaking English. What-" With a start, she realized she'd been speaking Rohirric. She took a steadying breath. "Better?" she asked her brothers, this time in English. They nodded. "I thought I was speaking English. Guess I'm getting too used to being here." She smiled weakly.

"Come home, Lu," 'Dan said, his tone slightly pleading. "Mom and Dad are a mess. 'Ro and I miss you a lot."

"No one else has a computer to hack?" she joked.

"Come home."

"I wish I could." Something dripped onto the paper and Cearo realized she was crying now as well as 'Ro. "I don't know how."

"Take my hand." To her surprise, Dan reached toward her from the paper, his flat, off-white hand extending out into the air in front of the pad. "Take my hand. I'll pull you back to us."

Still wondering if this was all the product of a sun-addled brain, she set the pad down and took the small paper hand.

Suddenly, something was seizing her shoulder and shaking her. "Time to get up," a rough voice said in Rohirric.

Cearo's eyes flew open and reality crashed down on her like icy water. It had only been a dream. The talking drawing was only a dream. Her gut twisted with disappointment, making her swallow hard and dig her nails into her palm to keep from crying.

By then, her brain was awake enough to register that it was Helm who had woken her up and was now striding toward the front door, the family cows and sheep following after him, most likely on his way to the barn to get Sherwyn before taking the animals out to a fresh pasture for the day.

"Another glorious day begins," she murmured dryly under her breath as she turned onto her left side so she could wake Wilone, who was clinging to her arm like lichen on a rock.

Cearo had long since given up trying to keep the little girl from using her arm like some sort of security blanket because every time she had tried, Wilone had slept poorly and woken up crying from nightmares which, in turn, woke everyone else up. She also refused to sleep next to anyone but Cearo. Rheda had brushed it off as just a phase and said she did not care but Cearo could tell she had been hurt by Wilone not wanting to sleep near her.

"Good morning, Little Bird," Cearo said softly as she gently prised out of Wilone's iron grip. The little girl shifted slightly and groaned as she joined the waking world. "Time to get up."

"Don't wanna get up," Wilone grumbled, eyes still closed.

Cearo chuckled. "Neither do I but we have to." She sat up and pulled her sister into her lap. "If you don't, I'll tickle you until you do."

Wilone opened her eyes and gave a sleepy giggle. "What if you don't get up and you stay asleep with me?"

"Then Kenric will come and tickle us both!" On the last word, she tickled Wilone's belly, making the little girl shriek. Everyone in the house looked over and saw Wilone draped across Cearo's lap on her back, giggling loudly as she was tickled

"You can play later, daughters," Rheda chided, smiling. "Cearo, come help me

with the porridge."

"You're safe for now," Cearo told Wilone as she slid the girl onto their sleeping mat, "but I'll get you later." She tickled the little girl quickly one last time before slipping on her shoes and going over to help Rheda make breakfast.

"We'll talk about last night after we eat," Rheda said as she slowly poured a bowl of oats into the kettle of boiling water over the fire.

"What about the baking?" Cearo asked, suddenly wanting to be anywhere else but in the kitchen.

"We'll do that tomorrow. Grindan needs to finish grinding the grain."

"Oh." Cearo looked down at the bowl in her hands and tried to think of something else she could use to stall the discussion. "What's so important about what I heard last night? Why's it a big deal Aelfrid went out riding and why do you need to talk to me?" She looked up at Rheda and affected her best confused expression. "Am I in trouble?" Maybe if she could convince Rheda she did not know anything, they would not have to talk about it.

"No, dear, you're not in trouble," Rheda reassured her. "It's-we'll talk about it later. Bring me the bowls. The porridge is ready."

After breakfast, to Cearo's dismay, Aelfrid stayed at the table when everyone else left. 'Horse balls,' she grumbled silently, keeping her gaze down to avoid accidentally meeting Aelfrid's eyes. 'Why couldn't Aelfrid have just stayed in last night and why did Brego have to go and say anything and kiss me? I hope both of their manhoods shrivel up and fall off!'

"I don't bite," Aelfrid teased, reaching across the table and putting a hand over hers.

"Don't touch me," she snapped, jerking her hand back as if she had been burned. "Just leave me alone." A moment later, she moved both of her hands into her lap.

"What's wrong?" Aelfrid, to her annoyance, was playing stupid.

"Don't act like you don't know why Ma and Pa want to talk to both of us," she

said, her tone clipped. "If you'd just listened to them last night, none of this would be happening."

"So I went riding last night. What's the big deal?"

Cearo looked up from the tabletop. "You know what the 'big deal' is, Aelfrid. You know why they didn't want you to go riding and so do I. Brego told me last night."

Aelfrid's already-pale face lost what little color it had. Cearo took a slow, deep breath to try and steady her jangling nerves.

"Is it true?" She knew it was. His reaction to her statement had confirmed that, but she wanted to hear it from him.

"What did he tell you?"

'Where do I start?' she wondered dryly. "That I'm the one you said you missed when you were on patrol and the only reason you haven't said anything to me yet is because I'm not twenty yet and you were going to talk to me next month." She swallowed thickly and willed her queasy stomach to settle.

His eyes met hers and she willed herself not to look away.

"Yes."

It was amazing, she decided later, how much could change with one little word, how you can suddenly feel like you do not know someone you have known for years and nothing will ever be the same ever again. What she saw in his eyes scared her. He was not supposed to be looking at her that way, like a man looks at a woman, the same way Brego had been looking at her last night. It was not supposed to be like this. She looked away.

Rheda and Algar chose that moment to sit down at their usual places at the table. "Talking about last night?" Algar asked. Aelfrid and Cearo nodded. "What did you tell her?"

"Nothing," Aelfrid said. "Other than telling her that what Brego told her last night was true."

Algar's stern gaze turned to Cearo. "And what was that?"

Cearo told him what she had told Aelfrid. "He also said it was hard to see me as a sister and he kissed me," she added, figuring Algar and Rheda deserved, or at least needed, to know Aelfrid was not the only son seeing their 'sister' in a very un-brotherly way.

Algar did not say anything for a long, uncomfortable moment. "He kissed you," he said flatly, voice taut with an undercurrent of anger.

Cearo nodded slowly, wondering what he was thinking. He was not happy, that much she could tell, but how upset he was was anyone's guess. Rheda and Aelfrid's expressions left absolutely no question of how they felt. They were both Very Mad and both looked as if they wanted to work Brego over. 'I'll be hiding under the table now, if anyone needs me,' she silently thought. 'Any loans of amour are greatly appreciated.'

"I see." The outer corner of Algar's left eye twitched slightly and after another long pause he said, "I should talk to Brego. Rheda, come with me." As he stood, he turned to Aelfrid. "We'll finish discussing this later. Stay here."

To Cearo's surprise, Aelfrid stayed at the table, even after Algar and Rheda left. She waited for him to get up and go somewhere else but he stayed sitting, saying nothing while he stared at her, hands resting on the table. "No sneaking out after them?" she asked dryly to break the uncomfortable silence. "I'm surprised. I thought you'd be going after Brego."

"I'm in enough trouble right now and Pa is already thinking of sending you to live with Deagol until after your birthday."

That was news. "Who told you that? Pa didn't say anything to me." She hoped it was just talk. She and their eldest brother had never had more than a politely distant relationship and the idea of having to live with him and his wife, even for a short time, made her want to cry. He did not much like her and had always been suspicious of how she had gotten to Rohan and the vague answers she gave whenever someone asked her about where she was from.

"He wouldn't. He's just threatened to me to do that."

"If I'm going anywhere, I'd rather go stay with Elfhild or Gurda." She bit the inside of her lip, hoping if Algar made anyone go live somewhere else it would be Aelfrid, and studied a stain on the table which looked like a very warty ball.

A toad had played with it, she decided, which is why it had warts. Maybe it had tossed it around with all its toad friends and played catch. She giggled at the mental picture of toads playing catch on the bank of a creek and made a note to tell Wilone, who was playing on Cearo's sleeping mat, about the toads that came out at night to play catch and tag on the bank of the stream behind the house.

"What's funny?" Aelfrid asked.

She glanced up and found herself looking in his eyes. "Stop staring at me," she said crossly, unnerved by what she saw there. "I was just making up a story about a stain on the table." She pushed back the bench and stood up, suddenly anxious to be anywhere but here. "I should tell it to Wilone before I forget it." Anything to get away from him and his ceaseless staring.

She took her sister outside to play not far from the creek in the shade of a willow tree. The weather had been unseasonably hot and even early in the morning, it was already warm enough that Cearo wanting nothing more than to strip off her wool clothing, or at least chop off the sleeves and most of the skirts. She had suggested the idea of altering clothes for the summer months to Rheda her first summer here and been soundly shot down. Decent and proper women, it seemed, did not go about with arms and legs uncovered, no matter how hot the weather and as long as Cearo was living under their roof she would live by their rules. There was a nice, hidden pool upstream from the house very few people seemed to know about so Cearo went there to swim when she could to get relief from the heat. If the early morning temperatures were any indication, Cearo knew she would be going there again today.

Wilone loved Cearo's story about Tom the Toad and his toad friends, Larry, Curly, and Moe. "They have funny names," was Wilone's opinion.

"They do," Cearo agreed. "And they're very silly toads, always tripping over each other and falling down and poking each other in the eye." Wilone giggled. "Sometimes, Tom and Larry and Moe and Curly go swimming with," she searched her brain for more names, "Laurel and Hardy, minnows that live in a pool we go to and they have swimming races and play games in the water."

"Like tag?" Wilone asked. Cearo nodded, trying to keep a straight face, and Wilone lit up. "I wanna play with them sometime. Do you think they'd let me play with them?"

"I don't think Ma would let you stay up to play games with them, Little Bird."

"Maybe she'll let me if you say you'll be with me."

"I don't think so. I'm sorry." Wilone's face fell. "I'm sure Tom and his friends would love to play with you. Maybe when you're older."

"Like next month?"

Cearo pushed a lock of hair behind Wilone's ear. "Maybe next spring."

"But that's so long! I don't wanna wait! Maybe Tom and Larry and Cully and Mo will leave by next spring and I won't get to play with them."

"I know," Cearo said, pulling Wilone into her lap and hugging her. "It's hard when you're a big girl and people think you're still little."

"I'm hot." Wilone squirmed out of Cearo's arms and began pulling her tunic off.

"Don't." Cearo grabbed her wrists. If Wilone ran around with no clothes on and Rheda found out, she'd be in trouble for letting her sister not wear any clothes.

'I really should cut the sleeves off our shifts,' she silently groused. 'Who cares if I get in trouble? At least we won't roast to death!'

It would, though, waste fabric because there was no easy way to reattach the sleeves when colder weather came so the shift would only be good for warm weather. For cold weather, they… no, i she /i would have to make an entirely new shift (Rheda would make sure she did it all by herself as punishment. That would mean making the fabric (which was a major pain to make, especially carding and spinning the wool and then dying it) and there was no way she was going to deal with all that just so she could cut the sleeves off in the summer.

"I'm hot and I wanna!" Wilone whinged.

"I know. So am I." Cearo flopped back onto the grass and lay out with arms and

legs spread, willing her body to adsorb the cool of the earth. "I wish we could take our clothes off but if Ma finds us I'll get in trouble."

"We do when we go in the water!"

"Yes, but the pool is well-hidden and this spot isn't."

"Anyone could ride up and see us."

"Let's go to the pool," Wilone said, sounding as if she was annoyed to be pointing out the obvious to her sister.

"When Ma gets back." Wilone pulled a face. "I don't want to wait either but

she'll get worried if she doesn't know where we are."

"Let's go find her." Wilone grabbed Cearo's hand and tried to pull her up.

Cearo 'let' Wilone pull her into a sitting position. "I don't know where she is, sweetie. She and Pa went to find Brego to talk to him."

"Oh." She plopped down. "Tell me more about Tom."

When Cearo ran out of stories about Tom the Toad, they went to the barn to look at the kittens. One of Cearo's favorites, a tabby she had named Morwen, had just given birth behind the hay pile. The brothers did not understand why Cearo cared about the cats in the barn and they had teased her for months when she brought the runt of one litter into the house two years ago and hand-raised it, going so far as to name him Aelfwine. She had ended up having the last laugh, though, as Aelfwine was one of the best mousers they had ever had. Now that Aelfwine had proven himself useful, Cearo's strange attitude toward keeping cats around was tolerated and she was allowed to bring a kitten into the house each year. Morwen's kittens were almost old enough to be taken away from their mother now and Cearo had promised Wilone she could pick a kitten to be hers.

The kittens were nursing, little ears moving back and forth as they suckled, while Morwen lounged on the hay, purring loudly and looking very pleased with herself. Her narrowed eyes widened when Wilone grabbed one of the nursing kittens and she began to stand. "Let the kitty finish eating," Cearo told Wilone gently. Morwen settled back when the kitten was plopped back down among its siblings and returned to nursing greedily. "You have to be nice when you're touching them. You can't grab them or they get scared and their mommy doesn't like that."

"Sorry," Wilone said. "They're cute and I wanna hold them."

"I know. Watch me when I pick them up and do it like I do."

"Will they be done eating soon?"

"I don't know. Let's sit and watch. Maybe Morwen will let us pet her. Be soft," she cautioned. "Like this." She lightly stroked Morwen's back. Wilone copied her and Morwen began to purr louder, making Wilone grin. The cat sniffed Wilone's arm and gave her a lick.

"The kitty licked me!" Wilone exclaimed. "She likes me!"

Cearo chuckled. "I think she does." She sat back against the hay and watched Wilone pet Morwen and tell the cat what a good kitty she was and that she was soft and had pretty babies and how she was going to take one and love it a lot and pet it a lot and name it Galdricge.

"Where'd you learn that, Little Bird?" Cearo asked. Big word for a small kid.

"Brego says that's what you are," Wilone responded brightly. "He says it's a better name for you than 'Cearo'. He's right. You aren't sad so why do they call you 'Cearo'?"

"Because I used to be before you were born." She idly scratched behind Morwen's ears. "When I first came here, I missed my family a lot."

Wilone crawled up into her lap. "Do you miss them now?"

"A little. Sometimes."

"Would you miss us if you went away?"

"Absolutely." She gave Wilone a hug. "I'd miss you the most."

"What about me?" Cearo and Wilone startled at the sound of Aelfrid's voice.

"What about you?" Cearo replied, irritated he had been standing there listening and had not said anything. "What do you want?"

"I heard you and Little Bird and came to see what you two were doing."

"Wilone's picking out a kitten and we're waiting until they're done nursing, " she explained. "Slide off my lap," she said to Wilone. I can't reach around you to pet Morwen." She hoped if she ignored Aelfrid he would go away and stop making her feel uncomfortable.

To her supreme annoyance and discomfort he came over to the hay pile and sat down next to her. "What do you like so much about cats?" he asked.

She moved to the other side of Wilone to lie on her stomach. "They're nice to pet and they're good company."

"They just lay around and sleep all day and they don't come when you call them."

"So? They smell better than dogs and they don't jump up on you or shake water all over you or roll in dead things and horse crap. And dogs don't get rid of the mice."

"That's the only thing cats are good for."

Cearo looked up at him, angry words on the tip of her tongue, and saw he was grinning. He'd been baiting her. She rolled her eyes and silently berated herself for letting him get to her. If things were not so totally messed up she would have enjoyed going at it with him over which were better: cats or dogs.

"You can tell cats anything and they won't tell anyone else and they're nice to cuddle."

"So are dogs."

"Depends on the dog. They still smell."

Wilone tugged on Cearo's sleeve. "The kitties are done eating. Can I pet them?"

"Be very soft."

"I will." Wilone gently scooped up a kitten with both hands and slowly brought the mewling ball of fuzz to the hay in front of her where she stroked it lightly with one finger. To her annoyance, the kitten continued to cry and tried to return to Morwen. "Make it stay!" she told Cearo petulently.

"Why don't you go sit by Morwen and pet the kitties there? I'm sure the kitties will let you pet them if they're with their ma."

Wilone nodded, put the kitten back, then scrambled over the hay to lay down on the other side of Morwen. Cearo smiled at the sight of Wilone petting the kittens lightly with one finger, an expression of concentration on her face as she made sure to be soft. "She looks so sweet," Cearo said softly, wondering if her parents had ever felt so full of love and amazment they could burst when she'd been Wilone's age and learning how to pet nicely.

"She does," Aelfrid agreed. "People treat cats like this where you're from?"

She nodded, still watching Wilone. "We keep animals around for their company. Lots of people do, strange as that sounds."

"Why?"

"Because we want to. It makes us happy. I haven't heard you complaining about Aelfwine."

"He does a job."

"He's also a nice companion."

"What about us?"

"You and your brothers?" She rolled her eyes. "You smell and you're loud and you harass me and you like to beat me at swordplay." 'And, lately, you kiss me without warning and you tell me you see me as a woman and turn everything upside down,' she added silently. "Aelfwine helps me relax and makes me smile and laugh."

"And none of us do?"

"He doesn't harass me and use swordplay as an excuse to hit me."

"You do the same to us."

"And? Wilone, be soft. Don't hold the kitty so tight." Wilone set down the wiggling, mewling kitten she'd been gripping around its belly. "You like snakes and bugs and all those nasty things but I don't tell you it's stupid."

"Yes, you do."

"Only when you dangled them in my face or dropped them down my shift to scare me and make me scream. I didn't used to be afraid of them, until you brats started scaring me with them."

"If we didn't like you, we'd ignore you."

"That must mean Brego adored me," she said sarcastically, then felt herself go red. "You know what I mean," she muttered.

He put a hand over hers. "Yes. Cearo, we need to talk."

Her heart began to race. "No, we don't." She knew what he was going to say and she didn't want to hear it. "Let go of my hand." He was holding it too firmly for her to pull it free.

"Yes, we do," he said in a low voice. "We have to at some point."

"Then we'll do it later," she shot back. "Let go of my hand."

"Not until you listen to what I have to say."

"No."

"You don't have a choice!" he snapped, frustration thick in his voice. "If you don't now, you will at your birthday when I ask Pa for permission to court you."

She looked up at him. "And what if I don't want to hear it?" She could see the hurt her words caused reflected in his eyes, making her heart twist. What was she supposed to do, lie to him? "What if all I want is a brother and a friend?"

"Is it?"

"I—yes." She looked away. "You're my brother and my best friend, Aelfrid. You're not supposed to want—to see—this isn't how it's supposed to be."

"You've never been a sister. You were sixteen when you came to us. Maybe for Grindan and Tellan, but not the rest of us."

"Brego said something like that last night and how it would've been easier if I was 'a plain little stick'."

"He's right." He lightly ran his thumb over her palm. "But there's no sense in wishing for what might have been. You're not and you're nearly of age and I don't want to be your friend anymore."

'Stopstopstopnonono i no /i ,' her mind cried, willing him to shut up and stop talking about love. "Let go of my hand. I don't want to talk about this. Leave me alone."

"Cearo-"

"Let b go /b ," she snapped, jerking her hand from his. "Just leave me alone, Aelfrid. I said I don't want to talk about it." She scrambled away to sit next to Wilone. "Did you find a kitty you like, honey?" They were all so cute with their large bellies full of milk and big blue eyes.

Across the hay, Aelfrid had not moved and Cearo knew he was watching her and Wilone. She took a slow, deep breath and held it for a moment. 'Just ignore him,' she ordered herself as she let the breath out through her nose soundlessly. If she ignored him and refused to acknowledge he was there, he would go away soon enough.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: First, HAPPY TWO YEARS OLD, STORY! Okay, now the boring stuff:

1) I know rabbits aren't rodents but no one told Luthien that (or if they did, she forgot). ;)

2) 'Leoflic' means, among other things, 'dear'.

3) In Anglo-Saxon society, women had final say on who they married and Tolkien modeled Rohan on the Anglo-Saxons.

Cearo and Wilone were in the house eating their midday meal when Rheda and Algar returned with Brego. 'Somebody has a burr under their saddle,' Cearo thought snidely Brego entered the house and she saw the thunderous expression on his face. 'Pa must've told him to stay away from me.'

"Where's your brother?" Algar demanded, his expression equally dark, entering close behind Brego.

"Which one?" Cearo replied.

"Aelfrid."

"I don't know. He was with Wilone and me in the barn for a while when we were looking at the kittens but he left before we did."

"Why do you waste your time with those beasts?" Algar asked crossly.

Cearo bit the tip of her tongue to keep from giving him a flip answer. "Because I find that they're sweet and I enjoy petting them and hearing them purr."

"Did you see where your brother went after he left the barn or were you too busy with the cats to notice?"

"I don't know where he went, but he didn't take Osric." 'I wasn't so busy with the cats I didn't notice that,' she added silently. How was she supposed to know where Aelfrid had gone? It was not her job to keep track of him and he was more than old enough to go about on his own without supervision.

"How long ago did he leave?"

"I'm not sure. Not too long. He stayed in the house until Wilone and I were in the barn with the cats." Algar 'hrumph'd and stalked back outside.

Brego waited until their father was gone to sit down next to Cearo and put his hand over hers. "Why did you tell Pa and Ma I kissed you last night?"

"Because they have a right to know Aelfrid isn't the only one who wants to court me. Take your hand off mine." 'Sweet Eru up a tree,' she sighed mentally, 'not again. I do not want to deal with another man who fancies himself in love with me.'

"They want to send you to live with Deagol."

"Aelfrid mentioned Pa was considering that." She tried to jerk her hand out from under his but he was holding it firmly. "Let go of my hand, Brego. i Now /i ."

"In a minute. Pa is definitely going to send you to live with Deagol. I heard him telling Ma. He doesn't want you and me and Aelfrid all under the same roof." He laced his fingers through hers and ran his thumb lightly over the palm of her hand.

" i Let go /i of my hand b now /b ," Cearo snapped, panic rising inside her. "Let go! Brego! Stop!" She looked up at him only to wish she had not. That Look was in his eyes again.

"Calm down." He placed his fingers on her lips. "Don't yell or Ma and Pa will come running, thinking I'm attacking you." He smiled wryly. "You're fine. You need to get used to men holding your hand, i Galdricge /i ."

"Don't call me that!" she snapped, pushing his fingers off her lips. "Leave me alone. Go away and leave me alone!"

"Stop hurting her!" Wilone yelled before bursting into tears. With a start, Cearo remembered her sister, who was sitting near her and had, until then, been quietly eating her bread and carrot pieces. "MA!"

Brego dropped Cearo's hand like it were a hot rock and moved down to the far end of the bench from her. "Stupid brat," Cearo heard him mutter under his breath.

"Say that again and I'll geld you before the sun sets," Cearo snapped, anger at his remark quickly replacing the panic and fear. She turned to her sister and pulled the crying little girl into her lap. "It's okay, honey. I'm fine. Everything is going to be okay." When Pa came back, she was going to ask him if instead of going to live with Deagol, she could go live with Elfhild or Gurda. She had to get away from Aelfrid and Brego or she would go totally out of her head.

Rheda burst into the house a few moments later. "Where's Wilone? What's wrong?"

Cearo turned to face her foster mother. "She's fine, Ma. She just got upset when Brego wouldn't let go of my hand when I asked him to."

Her words had the desired effect. Rheda's drawn expression became one of barely suppressed anger. "Brego, what did your father tell you about leaving her i alone /i ? We're only just home and already you're ignoring him!" She strode over to Brego and cuffed him on the back of the head. "You can't be forward like she's a tavern whore, you oaf!"

"I let go of her hand when she said so, Ma," Brego protested. "Wilone was already upset because Aelfrid tried to hold her hand earlier and she didn't want him to."

Rheda cuffed him again. "You should not have tried to hold her hand at all." To Cearo, she said, "Did Aelfrid try to hold your hand this morning?"

"No," she lied, surprising herself. "He was going to but I told him not to and he didn't." She hoped that it didn't show on her face she was lying. She had no idea how she'd explain it because she had no idea why she had.

"Yes he did!" Wilone sniffled, lifting her face from Cearo's shoulder. "I saw him."

"He wanted to but I told him not to and that was it," she explained to Rheda. Aelfrid owed her for this. "Everything's fine." She stood, holding Wilone, and walked over to where Rheda stood by the doorway. "The garden needs weeding." She set down her sister and went outside.

Taking care of the garden was hot, sweaty work and between cursing the rabbits and other rodents eating the vegetables, the weeds which refused to be pulled up, and the prevelence of bugs that wanted to eat the plants to stubs the whole issue of brothers who refused to stay brothers was far from her mind while she attacked the weeds, tied up straggling vines, and dropped bugs of all life stages into a bucket of old ale kept around for that purpose.

When the sun slipped below the tops of the trees by the creek, Rheda called for her to come inside and help with the evening meal.

"The garden is growing like someone put a spell on it," Cearo said as she cut up dried beef to add to the pot over the fire. As much as everyone hated the heat, it meant a longer growing season and that meant more crops to store away and sell and more time to enjoy things fresh, instead of hard and dried. She was looking forward to when the berry bushes would start producing fruit. Wilone needed to learn the fine art of berry picking and eating your fill before your parents caught you and yelled at you for putting more berries in your mouth than your bucket. With what berries actually made it into the buckets there'd be pies and jams and fresh berries with cream. Just thinking about it made Cearo's mouth water. Berry season would not come soon enough.

"The garden isn't the only thing with a spell on it," Rheda remarked. "Brego and Aelfrid are-"

"I don't want to talk about that," Cearo said.

"You cannot avoid it forever."

"I can try."

Rheda chuckled and came over to where Cearo was working. "You'll drive all of us mad in the process, leoflic." She gave the girl's shoulder a squeeze. "I know this is hard and uncomfortable. It is for all of us. Your father is worried about you and your bro-Brego and Aelfrid and so am I and what it will mean for our family. Talk to me."

"I wish both of them had never said anything and I wish they'd both leave me alone." She scooped up the pieces of beef and carried them over to the pot. "The whole thing…I just want it to go back to normal." She didn't want to talk to Rheda about it, to tell her what she was thinking only to have her go and tell Algar everything. If he knew it scared her to have Aelfrid and Brego intersted in her, he'd probably tell her to stop being weak and she should be flattered two men were interested in her. For all she knew, he'd want her to marry one of his sons. She shuddered slightly. She did have final say in who she married but it would be an incredibly uncomfortable situation if she were to refuse to marry Aelfrid or Brego if Algar wanted her to marry one of them and where would she live if that happened? Wilone would be crushed if she wasn't around anymore and Rheda needed her to help out. As she dumped the beef pieces into the pot, she imagined one of them was Brego, bringing a smile to her lips.

"I want to go live with Elfhild's family or Gurda's family."

"You do?" Rheda sounded surprised. "What brought that up?"

"I know Pa wants me to go live with Deagol. I'd rather live with Elfhild or Gurda."

"Who told you that?"

"Aelfrid said Pa was considering it and Brego told me he'd decided I should go live with Deagol. What else needs to be done?"

"You can cut the bread. Your pa hasn't decided anything." She muttered something under her breath about boys and driving her to murder.

"I think I would still like to go and live with Elfhild or Gurda, if they'll have me. I don't know if I can live around Aelfrid and Brego with everything and not go out of my mind."

"I understand. I'll talk to Pa and see what we can do. I'm sure Elfhild would love to have you there to help prepare for the wedding."

Oh. Duh? How could she have forgotten about Helm's wedding? "We can say that's the reason I'm going there."

"No, I'll tell Pa the real reason. He needs to know what is going on and why."

"I didn't mean him. I meant Brego and Aelfrid." She stabbed the loaf of bread with the knife and sawed the loaf into halves. "I tell them to leave me alone but they don't."

"Men do that."

Cearo stabbed the right-hand loaf and hacked off a thick slice. "Then they're stupid. When someone tells you to leave them alone, you leave them alone."

"Men are hunters. They like to chase after things."

"I'm not a deer."

Rheda laughed. "No, not at all. You're like a fox, all bright red hair and cunning."

'I wish I was bald,' Cearo groused mentally. "I wish they'd leave me alone. Why can't they go after some girl from the village?"

"Because they've decided you're the one they want, leoflic."

Cearo stopped murdering the bread and looked over at Rheda. "Why? What's so special about me they both decided they wanted me? And if they think I'm so great, why are they always making fun of my hair and the way I ride and tugging on my braid? If they like me, why aren't they nicer?"

Rheda laughed. "The same reason Helm drove Elfhild to distraction before he finally got up the courage to talk to her father."

"They're scared to tell me the truth?" Cearo found that hard to believe. "If they're so scared about talking to me because I might tell them to go bug-kiss an orc, making me sore and bruised when we spar and tugging on my braid when I tell them not to are stupid things to do to make me inclined to listen to them." She'd nearly used 'go bugger their horse' but, thank Bema, caught herself in time. Rheda had no idea all the really great words and phrases she'd learned from her brothers when they didn't know she was listening and what Rheda's ignorance was her bliss.

"If they like me, why don't they bring me flowers or help me with chores?" Cearo finished slicing the bread.

"Because that's how most men are."

"It makes no sense."

"Men rarely do." Rheda picked up the long spoon and stirred the mixture in the pot. "Don't try to understand them. No woman can."

Cearo didn't know who was behind it but when everyone sat down for the evening meal, Kenric, Grindan, Tellan, and Helm moved around so that neither Aelfrid nor Brego could sit next to or across from her. "Thank you," she told Helm in a low voice while leaning across the table to grab a slice of bread.

"For what?" he replied with a wink. "Come riding with me after dinner."

"So you can sell me on Aelfrid's good points?" she teased, though only half-joking.

"That would be an impossible task," he quipped and was hit in the head a moment later with a chunk of something from the stew. "She knows you well enough to make up her own mind, Aelfrid." He threw the chunk back at his brother, hitting him in the chest.

"Why are you mad at Aelfrid?" Tellan asked. "Is it what he said on patrol?"

She felt herself grow red. "And other things," she said quickly, suddenly interested in the food on her plate.

"What'd he say? When did you find out? What did he do?"

"Nothing you need to know," Algar interjected. "Eat your meal."

Cearo couldn't get out of helping Rheda with clean-up two nights in a row so the ride with Helm had to wait until the dishes and table were wiped off, the scraps fed to the pigs, and the stray bits of food were scraped off the inside of the pot back into the stew, which would be heated up again for the evening meal the next night.

"So why did you want me to come riding, if you're not going to try to convince me to marry Aelfrid?" Cearo asked as she followed Helm to the the pasture with Sherwyn's bridle and saddle.

"I thought you'd like to get away from the house for a while and you might want to talk to someone about what's going on."

' i Lovely /i ,' she thought sardonically. 'Someone else who thinks they have a right to know everything going on inside my head.' "And what if I don't want to talk about it?"

"Then you can teach me more of your songs and we'll race rabbits and watch owls hunt after the sun sets." He took the saddle from her and settled it on Sherwyn's back. "Elfhild said you might want someone to talk to."

"You told her about this?" She was going to kill him.

"No. She told me before I left on patrol that when you came of age and men started asking Pa to court you, you would want someone to talk to other than Ma."

"Oh. She's right." She handed him the bridle. "You won't tell anyone what I say."

"Only if you want me to."

"Good. Have you told anyone?"

"No." He gave her a leg up into the saddle. "I'm not Brego. I don't go around telling things to whoever asks."

"Thank Bema for that," she remarked dryly. "I'm surprised he said anything last night about Aelfrid if he wants me, too. He said I deserved to know."

Helm snorted. "The only 'deserving' person he cares about is himself. He told you because it serves his purposes."

"What, to make me want nothing to do with him or Aelfrid? Whatever he thinks he was going to get out of telling me, he didn't do himself any favors and after earlier I want even less to do with him."

"What did he do?" Helm's tone was clipped.

"He refused to let go of my hand when I asked him to and said I needed to get used to men holding my hand and he called me 'Galdricge'. Wilone told me that he says that's a better name for me than 'Cearo'."

"He has the manners of an orc."

"Don't insult orcs." They both laughed. "Wilone yelled for Ma when I got all upset and she came running and that was it because I went out to the garden then. Thanks for talking to Kenric, Grindan, and Tellan and getting them to move around so I didn't have to sit near Brego or Aelfrid tonight. I'd have been too nervous to eat if I'd hada to be near them and I know at least one of them would've tried to sit near me."

"Pa told me earlier the boys had said too much and you were looking tenser than a bow string because of it."

"I love you, Helm. As a brother. Hope you're not disappointed," she added dryly.

He chuckled. "My broken heart shall never heal."

"Be thoughtful like that to Elfhild and you'll make her a very happy woman and the other women in the village wish they'd gotten to you first." She sighed and settled back against him. "Brego and Aelfrid both said you older boys never saw me as a sister, or at least had a hard time seeing me as a sister. How did you manage to escape going stupid over me like they have?"

"You weren't blonde and named 'Elfhild'."

She laughed. "So if I'd changed my hair color and name, I might have three brothers wanting to court me?"

"The not speaking Rohirric would've been a problem."

"Good point. I do now, though."

"You would have to remove the real Elfhild and I have trouble believing you'd be successful with that."

Cearo laughed in what she hoped was an evil manner. "I have my ways."

"Leave my betrothed in peace, Lig! You have two of my brothers wanting to court you. Set your sights on a man who isn't in love with another!"

"That's too easy, Helm! I like a challenge!"

He gently tugged on her braid. "Find your challenge elsewhere."

"If you insist. Seriously, why are they so interested in me? I'm nothing special and they've seen me when I'm dirty and messed up and in a horrible mood and I've driven them crazy with tricks and spying on them and telling on them to Ma and Pa."

"Brego, I have no idea, but you and Aelfrid have always been close."

"We're friends. Like you and I are friends."

"You and Aelfrid have always been much closer than you and me."

"So? He told me the only reason he didn't tell me go leave him alone when I first arrived is because he felt sorry for me and because I'd do his work for him and I've helped him play pranks on the rest of you and I'm good at getting him out of trouble. He also said one time it was easier to let me keep talking than to get me to be quiet."

Helm laughed at the last part. "Is that when you broke his teeth?"

"Yes." Helm laughed harder. "How can he want to court someone he thinks talks too much and breaks his teeth?"

"So he can be sure you'll always be there to do his work for him."

"Haha, funny," she groused, elbowing him. "I haven't done his work for him for a while now-I haven't been able to, so he's out of luck on that."

"Cearo, if that's what he still thought, he wouldn't be friends with you and he wouldn't want to court you. You're a very pretty girl with a nice smile and a nice laugh and you're sweet and understanding and you keep your word. It's not hard to understand why a man would want to court you."

"I thought you said you had no interest in me," she teased.

"You talk too much. Hey!" He rubbed his side where she'd elbowed him a second time.

"Didn't your mother teach you it's rude to say things like that to a lady?"

"Yes, but I'm not talking to a lady. OW! Stop with your elbow!"

"When you stop insulting me."

"Jab me again and I'll push you off Sherwyn and you can walk home."

"And what if I'm kidnapped by orcs? How will you feel then? You'll never be able to show your face in public again if you leave your poor, defenseless sister all alone to walk home when there are orcs about."

"I know how you fight. You are i not /i defenseless. And don't you keep a dagger with you?"

"Yes, but if I'm taken by orcs unexpectedly how can I grab it in time to defend myself? A search party will find my dead, mangled body in the grass and it'll be all your fault for leaving me out here alone. Elfhild will never want to marry you after that."

"You'd make an excellent wandering bard, making up tales of hardship and woe."

"And I can stitch designs on clothing and draw pictures for a few extra pennies on market days," she quipped. "All I need is someone to travel with me."

"Let me know if you find anyone."

"I'll do that. Thank you."

"For what?"

"Saying I'm pretty and sweet."

"It's true. Not as pretty and sweet as Elfhild, though."

Cearo chuckled. "Of course. I'm sure even Nessa or Vana would fall short in your eyes. Were you serious about wanting to learn another of my songs?"

"Yes. Who are Nessa and Yavanna?"

'Smooth move, using Elvish names,' she chided herself silently. "Bema's sister and wife."

"Is that what they call them where you're from?"

"Yes." Among other names.

"What language is that?"

"Sindarin," she said, thinking fast. "One of the Elven languages."

"Elves are real?" Helm sounded like a little boy who'd just been told Santa was sitting in the living room.

"Yes. They live to the north and west of here, on the other side of the Misty Mountains."

"You met them?"

"No, unfortunately. I've only learned about them. I want to meet them. How'd you like to learn a drinking song?" Definitely time to change the subject.

Helm chuckled. "I didn't think fine ladies knew those sorts of things."

It was her turn to laugh. "Who says I'm a fine lady?"

"What else could you be? Your hands were soft and your skin was white when you arrived, you knew nothing of everyday work, and you know how to read and write in your own language and you learned at least one other language."

"What if I told you that where I'm from, even the poorest children are taught to read and write and we have developed ways of doing things that make it easier to do work like cooking and cleaning that don't leave your hands rough and worn?"

"I would say your home sounds like a wonderful place and I wish it were possible to bring those things here."

"So do I." She sighed and stared up at the sky, wondering if it was the same sky her parents and brothers were looking at.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Sorry this took so long. The muse made me grovel before she'd grant me her inspiration. The reference to Brecca's awareness of women is taken from the movie _Big Fish_.

Cearo moved to Elfhild's one week later under the guise of going to help her with last-minute preparations for the wedding. She was sure Helm, Aelfrid, and Brego suspected the real reason but if they did, they never said anything, not that Aelfrid or Brego had much chance to. Algar made certain his sons were occupied with tasks that kept them away from the house most of the day and Cearo kept herself busy inside the house in the evenings, ensuring neither man would have any opportunity to talk about anything more serious than that season's crops and the foals which were due to be born any time now. She tried to ignore the way Aelfrid looked at her but it was hard to avoid in a house as small as theirs and much too often she'd accidentally meet his eyes and no matter how fast she managed to look away, what she saw there made her heart twist and her mouth go dry.

"Come outside with me," Elfhild said a few nights after Cearo arrived. "We haven't had a chance to talk since the beginning of spring."

Cearo eagerly agreed, her eyes sore from straining to see while she embroidered the hem of Elfhild's wedding overdress by firelight. Thankfully, she was nearly done and was sure she could finish tomorrow afternoon.

"How excited are you?" Cearo asked as she stepped outside with Elfhild. "Nervous?"

Elfhild laughed. "Very. Some days I feel as if I will be a terrible wife and I will never be able to get the fire going again if it goes out and I am still terrible at making soap and weaving." She sighed. "Do you think Rheda would be willing to let you come live with Helm and me after we're married? You make the best soap. You can teach me how."

"A better question is if Wilone will let me come live with you and Helm," Cearo replied dryly. "My darling little sister threw an absolute fit when I told her I was coming to stay with you until the wedding and refused to let me out of her sight for two days straight until Pa told her she could come to visit me every other day. Even then, she was incredibly clingy and I had to sneak away from the house while Ma distracted her so I could come here."

"Is that the sad wailing I heard the night you came?" Elfhild teased. "I was wondering who had died. If Wilone will not allow you to come live with us, do you think you could come over regularly and help me?"

"I'm sure that can be arranged." She smiled slyly. "Are you sure you want anyone else around?"

"You're terrible, Cearo!"

"What else are friends for, if not to tease you mercilessly?" She gave Elfhild a side hug. "Of course I'll come over regularly. I would anyway to see my favorite brother."

"I'm marrying Helm, not Aelfrid." When Cearo didn't say anything, Elfhild looked over at her friend. "Cearo?" she asked, concerned, when she saw her friend's face was now drawn and unsmiling. "What's wrong?"

"Everything," Cearo replied with a sigh and told Elfhild about Brego and Aelfrid. "That's the real reason I came," she admitted. "I had to get away from them."

"_Both_ of them?" Elfhild wasn't surprised to hear of Aelfrid's interest as she'd suspected it for quite a while but Brego…when had he become interested in her friend? The last she'd been aware, Brego considered Cearo a pest to be tolerated for his mother's sake. What had changed his mind?

Cearo nodded. "Both of them. It frightens me, the way they look at me. I'm not ready for this." She hugged herself. "Why can't brothers stay brothers and friends stay friends? I'm happy with things the way they've always been. Why can't they stay that way? Why do they have to go and be stupid and want to change everything and ruin it all?"

"Bema alone knows, my dear." Elfhild put an arm around the younger woman's shoulders and gave her a squeeze. "May I offer some advice?"

"Only if it's a way to get them to leave me alone."

Elfhild chuckled. "Not exactly. Give Aelfrid a chance."

Cearo pulled away. "What? Did he tell you to say that? Did Helm tell you to?"

"No and no. You are the only one who has said anything to me about this. Give Aelfrid a chance. He loves you, Cearo. More than a few have suspected it for a while."

"And you didn't say anything to me?"

"I did not know for sure and I did not want to risk being wrong and causing problems. You two do live in the same house."

"You could have warned me."

"I left that to Helm."

Cearo felt her temper start to rise. "Helm suspected and he never said anything?"

"Yes, and he agreed with me that it would likely cause more trouble than it was worth to say anything to you. What good would it do to say anything before you were twenty?"

"I could have told Aelfrid to stop it and go find someone else."

"It does not work that way, Cearo. You cannot just tell someone to not love you or to go love someone else. Think about it. If you are this uncomfortable now, how uncomfortable would you have been if I or Helm or someone else had told you what we suspected a year or more ago?" Cearo didn't say anything. "It would only have made trouble, especially if Aelfrid was not in love with you."

Cearo had to admit Elfhild had a point, but she did so only to herself. "Aelfrid wanted me to listen to him. He said if I would not now, I would have to on my birthday when he asked Pa for permission to court me. He shut up, mostly, after I told him I didn't want to hear it. Brego refused to let go of my hand and told me I should get used to it and he scares me more than Aelfrid does. The way he looks at me…there's something in his eyes that makes me feel like a tiny mouse being stared at by a big, hungry cat."

"You have a say in who courts you and who you marry. Remember that," Elfhild said, taking Cearo's hand and giving it a squeeze. "I wouldn't blame you if you refused Brego. Something about him makes my skin itch like fleas biting in July. Did he tell you what it is about you he finds so attractive and interesting?"

"Nothing, other than it would have been easier to see me as a sister if I was a skinny little stick. Bema knows we've never gotten along very well. I have no idea what about me he's so interested in. He's always criticized me."

In the remaining weeks before the wedding, nothing more was said about Cearo's problem with Aelfrid and Brego. As promised, Wilone came to visit every other day, usually with Helm.

"I want you back," Wilone whinged to Cearo a week before the wedding while they made flower crowns near the house. "Ma isn't no fun."

"Ma is _not_ any fun," Cearo corrected, "and I'm sure she is. She's just busy and doesn't have as much time to play with you as I did. Don't you play with Tellan or Grindan?"

Wilone glowered. "They knock me down and make me be the orc and don't tell me about Tom the Toad." As if for emphasis, she stuck her thumb in her mouth.

Cearo pulled the little girl onto her lap. "I'm sorry, honey. I wish I could come play with you but it's too far to ride back and forth each day."

"Can I stay with you? Please?"

"I don't think Ma would like that and I wouldn't have time to play with you right now. I'm busy helping Elfhild and her ma get ready for when she marries Helm."

"Why are they doing that?"

"Because they love each other very much and they want the whole world to know."

"Why do they need you to help them? Can't they tell everyone on their own?"

"It's a really big celebration and Elfhild and her ma need my help cooking for everyone who's going to come hear Helm and Elfhild say how much they love each other and I'm making Elfhild's overdress pretty."

"Can't you do that at home?"

Cearo hugged her sister tightly. "I wish, Little Bird, but they need me here."

"Alfrid misses you, too. He wants you to come back. C'ro, what's wrong?" Wilone looked up at her sister, who'd gone tense.

"Nothing, honey. I'm fine." Cearo forced a smile. "I'll come home after the wedding." After a moment, she asked, "Has Brego said anything?"

Wilone shrugged. "I dunno. He and Pa yelled a lot after you left and he stays gone a lot."

'Wonder what they fought over,' Cearo mused. 'Maybe Helm knows.' "Do you miss him?"

Wilone shook her head. "He's no fun to play with."

If Helm knew what Brego and Algar had fought over, he wasn't telling.

"I was not there when it happened," he told her later while saddling Sherwyn up to leave. "It was not just about you."

"The woman near the Gap?"

Helm glanced at her. "How did you know about that?" he asked, surprised.

Smirking, she cocked an eyebrow. "I have my ways. Brego told me Pa already knew about that. What else has Brego done?"

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with." He pulled her into a hug. "We miss you at home."

"So Wilone told me. She mentioned Aelfrid wishes I was home."

"He is not the only one, Lig." He tugged her braid. "We all miss you."

"Even Tellan and Grindan?"

Helm chuckled. "They wouldn't admit it if you asked them."

"Do you?"

"What a stupid question." He tugged her braid again. "Of course I do! It's boring without you goading the boys to pull pranks or dropping them in the manure pile when they won't do what you want."

"I only did that once!" Helm laughed. "See if your boots don't end up filled with manure! Elfhild wants me to come live with you two after you're married to help her."

"Help her with what? Burning the food and losing the sheep?" Cearo glowered at him and ground her heel into his toes. "What did you tell her when she asked?"

"That I was sure she'd be fine and was she sure she-you two wanted anyone else around?"

"Why would we not?" Helm asked innocently. Cearo laughed.

"I'm not Wilone, Helm. I know why you two wouldn't want anyone else around. At least for a while."

"You know less than you think."

"I've seen horses and I've heard the stories. I know what men and women do. I'm not stupid."

"That is not what I meant. Could you go find Wilone? Ma will yell herself hoarse if I return too late with our sister."

The day of the wedding dawned overcast and rainy for the fifth day in a row. Elfhild, to Cearo's intense annoyance, was driving herself to distraction worrying over the weather.

"I will shove her overdress in her mouth," she muttered under her breath as she dashed out to the privy under a cloak, "if she doesn't shut up about the stupid rain." It wasn't a big deal if they had to gather in the tavern instead of the center of the village for Helm and Elfhild to say their vows. Yes, everyone would get wet going over but everyone was damp enough already it hardly mattered and the old wives' tale about rain being bad luck was bollocks. Plenty of people had been married on a rainy day and gone on to have long, happy marriages and no more of their children died than couples who had married on sunny days. Cearo rolled her eyes. When she married, she was going to make sure someone slapped her if she started acting stupid like Elfhild was.

Elfhild, who was standing by the door, grabbed Cearo's arm as she came back into the house.

"Is the rain slowing?" she demanded.

"It's a slower kind of totally drenching than it was the last time you asked," Cearo said dryly. "I think I'm only mostly soaked instead of entirely. Elfhild, worrying about the rain is not going to change anything. Brecca said weeks ago he's happy to let us use the tavern for the wedding and the feast afterwards if it's raining so there is no problem with where the wedding is going to be and if there will be room for everyone. Why don't you get your overdress and go over to the tavern and start dressing for the wedding? Your ma and I will come over with the food and we'll get the tables and benches set up for the wedding."

"I wanted to have it outside!"

"What, in the mud? Even if it stopped raining now, it would still be a total mess outside. Having it in the tavern is the best idea." She pried Elfhild's hand off her arm. "Get your overdress and go to the tavern and ask Brecca if he minds helping your ma and I move the tables and benches."

"I wanted to have flowers in my hair."

Cearo bit the inside of her cheek and counted to twenty. "I know where I can find flowers for your hair. I'll take care of all of that. I'll find flowers to set around the tavern as well. Just go." She walked over to the fire to talk to Elfhild's ma before Elfhild could start whinging again.

Soaked to the skin, but bearing a huge armload of wildflowers, Cearo entered the tavern an hour later. Much to her pleasure, the tables had been moved to the perimeter of the room and the benches set up in rows for people to sit on.

"Hello, lovely girl," Brecca greeted her from behind the bar. With a wink, he asked, "What do you say we make it a double ceremony today?"

Cearo laughed. "You know I'd love nothing more but I'm not twenty yet, Brecca. Pa would never allow it."

"Only three more days, Cearo. Surely he wouldn't argue over three days when true love is involved!"

"He might not but I'm sure your wife would." She set the flowers down on the nearest table and shed her drenched cloak, lying it across a bench near the fire to dry out.

"Who cares about her?" The older man laughed. "Thrilled to see that rascal Helm finally settling down?"

"Elfhild is too good for him," she quipped. "It's his good fortune so if she wants to settle for a lout like him, who am I to argue? I'd like to think she'll make a real man out of him." Both she and Brecca laughed. "Can you spare some mugs for the flowers? I promised Elfhild I'd bring flowers to put around the tavern since she was so upset the wedding couldn't be outside."

"Only if you agree to marry me today."

"Only if your wife says it's okay." She grinned and made her way over to the bar. "A mug for each table should be enough."

"You're a lovely girl, my dear," Brecca remarked with a rare seriousness, wiping out a mug and pushing it across the bar to Cearo. "If I was younger, I'd ask to court you."

She felt herself blush. "Thank you."

"And not just because there are so few women within an easy riding distance. You're a fine woman and you'll make some man a wonderful wife." He smiled knowingly. "I know of a few men who would love to make today a double ceremony."

"So do I," she replied dryly. "Not that it would happen. Even if Pa would allow it, I wouldn't."

Brecca cackled with laughter. "I remember being young and impatient. Couldn't wait to go and ask Dagmar's pa for permission to court her. I thought I would burst out of my skin."

"And you've regretted it every day since, or so you always say," Cearo quipped. "So has Dagmar. I can understand why. How she puts up with you always making eyes at other women, I have no idea."

"She beats me with her broom," Brecca said matter-of-factly.

"Smart woman." Cearo bit the inside of her cheek and looked down at the bar for a moment to keep from laughing. It was a joke in the village that Brecca was aware of only two women in the world: Dagmar and Not Dagmar. "I hope when I marry it's like you and Dagmar."

"You're going to beat him with your broom?" Brecca teased.

"Every day," she replied dryly. "I'm serious, Brecca. I want to be as happy and in love as you two are." She straightened up and carried an armload of mugs over to the table where the flowers were. "Where is Dagmar?"

"Counting our barrels of ale to make sure we have enough for the feast afterwards."

"We have ale for the feast. We don't need to use yours."

"Where do you think your parents were getting the ale from?"

Cearo chuckled. "That would explain why I never saw any barrels anywhere, if it was being stored here."

"I was not sure if it would arrive in time for the wedding, seeing as it had to come from Edoras but it arrived yesterday, thank Bema."

"That far? You don't have enough of your own?"

"Mine is ordinary ale. This is a wedding! We need the best!" Brecca sounded horrified by the idea of serving the usual ale, as if it would be a crime against nature to do so.

"You don't have to go through so much trouble. You know we all love your ale." 'Some of us too much,' she thought archly, remembering the last time some of her brothers came home totally and completely drunk and puking.

"It's my gift to them."

"You have a truly noble heart, Brecca, and don't try to convince me otherwise." Cearo looked at him over her shoulder. "Everyone knows you're not really a grouchy old man."

Brecca snorted. "Tell Dagmar that."

Cearo grinned at him. "I will."

When people began to arrive for the wedding, Cearo hurried to the storeroom at the back of the tavern Elfhild was using to change in. "We have plenty of time," Cearo said when Elfhild opened her mouth to say something. "I have the flowers for your hair," she held up several deep blue blossoms which matched the color of Elfhild's eyes, "and there are bunches in mugs on every table. Dagmar, Ma, and your mother are all working together in the kitchen to make sure food will be ready after the ceremony. There is plenty of ale." Cearo held her tongue about where it had come from. That was for Brecca to say.

"Is Helm here yet?" the nervous bride asked.

"Not yet but there is still plenty of time. I came early so I wouldn't be rushed doing your hair. Let's light a few more candles so I can see what I'm doing."


	10. Chapter 10

Elfhild began complaining Cearo was pulling her hair too hard almost immediately, saying Cearo was going to rip all her hair out of her head.

"Sorry," Cearo murmured, silently chastising herself for letting her mind drift to Aelfrid and how she was going to handle having to deal with him today. Why couldn't there be some nice, easy, black-and-white answer? Why couldn't he just accept she only wanted to be friends and just get over the crush he had on her?

"It's not a crush," Elfhild said. "He loves you."

Cearo felt her face flame. Of all the times to be thinking out loud…she sighed. "He shouldn't have kept bothering me." At least it was only Elfhild who'd heard. "Whatever it is, a crush or love or whatever, I told him I was not interested and he should have left me alone."

"It is not that simple, _leoflic_. He is not going to take 'no' as if he had only asked if you wanted to go for a ride in the evening."

"I know it's more than that. I knew he'd bother me again about it at some point, but he would not stop pestering me when I said I was not interested right now."

"That was your mistake," Elfhild said with a laugh. Cearo scowled at the back of her head, hurt by the laughter. "You said 'right now'. He took that to mean all you needed was some more persuading to let him court you."

"So he thought that if he continued to pester me, despite the fact I was clearly upset and telling him to go away, I would tell him what he wanted to hear that day?"

"Or the next. Men can be like that."

"Men are stupid, then." Very stupid. Only a fool would continue to pester and harass someone when they were upset. Aelfrid deserved to fail if that was what he thought.

"You are pulling too hard again. Thank you. Men are not stupid, just persistent." Elfhild sighed softly. "Don't shut him out, Cearo. Aelfrid is a good man who loves you very much and it's obvious to everyone who has seen you two together that you love him too. Let me finish," she added quickly when Cearo started to protest. "You do. Until you came to stay with my family, you and he were rarely apart unless you had to be and you're always happier and smiling more when he's around or someone mentions him. You've been as miserable this past month as I am when Helm is on patrol."

"Stop playing matchmaker," Cearo chided brisquely. "Is it wrong to miss a friend?"

"You have been acting as if a part of yourself is missing, Cearo. You were missing more than a friend." Elfhild reached back and put a hand over Cearo's, giving it a quick squeeze. "Enough pensive thoughts. Today is supposed to be happy. I am finally marrying Helm."

"And looking forward to what comes after the wedding," Cearo teased as she fastened off the end of the braid she had been working on. "You'll wish you'd gotten sleep last night, since you won't be getting any tonight. Just try not to be too loud." Elfhild protested and Cearo laughed. "Get used to it. You'll hear far worse than that before the feasting ends tonight."

When Cearo and Elfhild left the storeroom, the sounds of people out front were louder than before. Cearo turned to Elfhild to ask if she wanted company for a while and saw she was white as simbelmynë.

"Sit down," she told her friend, helping her sink to the floor and lean against the wall. "You'll be fine. Do you want some water?"

"Yes, thank you," Elfhild said softly, head between her knees.

Cearo returned a few minutes later with two mugs of water. Handing one to Elfhild, she teased, "Why are you so nervous? You know everyone out there."

"That's why." Elfhild took another drink of water and smiled. Cearo was glad to see color returning to her face. "I will be fine. Sit with me for a few minutes."

"Do you really think he misses me?" Cearo asked after a moment.

"Kenric? I doubt it." Cearo gave her a peevish look and Elfhild laughed lightly. "Absolutely. Probably more than you miss him." She took Cearo's hand and gave it a squeeze. "Talk to him. Set things to right. Today is the happiest day of my life and I want you to be happy as well."

Cearo looked over at Elfhild and smiled. "Thanks. I hope I can get up the nerve to."

Elfhild's smile grew a bit devious. "You will talk to him tonight, even if I have to tie you up so you cannot run away. You cannot avoid him forever."

"I can try," Cearo quipped. Elfhild gave her a hard look and Cearo laughed. "I'm not serious. I don't want to be tied up. I know I need to, and I want to. I just…I don't want things to change. I don't want him to look at me like Helm looks at you. I want him to be safe and he's not anymore."

"Running away is not going to help anything." Elfhild stood up and held out a hand for Cearo. "It's getting quieter. It is probably time to start." She gripped Cearo's hand tightly, her nervousness plain on her face. "Go ask Brecca if it's time. I would, but…." Elfhild gestured to herself.

"Of course. Wouldn't want Helm to see you too early." She winked at her friend and hurried off.

When Cearo went to sit with her family, most everyone was glad to see her and talked over each other asking if she was coming home that night and please, come home and they missed her. Aelfrid and Brego were noticeably silent at the far end of the bench.

"Are you two going to sit there like lumps?" Rheda chided them. "I raised you better than that!"

"Forgive me," Brego said, sounding as if he meant it. Cearo doubted he did. "It is nice to see you again, Cearo." The look he gave her made her take a step back and move Wilone, who'd begged to be picked up, so she was holding the girl in front of her. Brego's gaze made her feel as if she were naked, and there was a feral hunger in his eyes which told her he would give her no peace until he got what he wanted. She shivered.

While Brego was speaking, Aelfrid stood up and came down to where Cearo and the rest of the family were standing. Cearo resisted the urge to say she needed to go back and finish helping Elfhild get ready.

'You'll have to do this sometime. Just get this over with,' she told herself. 'He's not going to attack you. Relax.' Out loud, she said, "Hello" and was glad she didn't sound as nervous as she felt.

"Osric and I have missed the races in the evening," Aelfrid chided, smiling.

"You two aren't the only ones." She returned his smile and studied his face. Bema, but she'd missed him. "You're growing your beard."

"It looks like a ragged piece of wool," Kenric said, earning him a swat on the back of his head. "What? It does!" Cearo bit the inside of her lip to keep from laughing. Kenric was right, not that she'd say so in front of Aelfrid.

"Be careful what you say, Kenric," Rheda chided. "In several years, it will be your turn."

"Mine will not be that ugly."

"No, it will be uglier," Aelfrid said dryly. To Cearo, he said, "Where are you sitting?"

"Here, unless you don't want me to," she replied, teasing him. "I'm sure-"

"Be quiet and sit down, girl," Rheda grumbled good-naturedly, taking Wilone from her. In a low voice, she added, "He would drag you back here if you tried to sit anywhere else." Cearo felt herself turn red and Rheda laughed. "If he didn't, I would. We have missed you." Rheda gestured to the end of the bench. "Sit."

"I can't. Not yet," she added quickly when she saw Rheda's smile start to falter. "Elfhild sent me to find Brecca and ask if it's time to start."

"He was going out to the oven with Halfred just now," Algar said.

Cearo flashed him a smile. "Thanks."

The ceremony was short and simple and was over before the young children began to fuss too much. Cearo had asked Rheda why weddings were so short the first time she had seen one, a few months after she arrived.

"Is it so the children aren't crying and disturbing things?" she'd asked.

Rheda had smiled wryly and said, "Why waste time and delay the feasting with long speeches and ceremony when they are just as married with a few short words?"

Cearo had grinned and voiced her agreement. If only people back home thought like that, she'd mused, weddings would be much more bearable.

The memory made Cearo smile as she pushed her way through the tangle of people and furniture to get to Helm and Elfhild. The smells coming from the cooking area were delicious.

"Now you won't have to sneak off to kiss her," Cearo teased Helm as she walked up next to him. "Have you shared all your eldest brother wisdom with Aelfrid yet so he can carry on the noble tradition of keeping everyone else in line?"

Helm regarded her quizzically. "Do I know you? You do not look familiar." Cearo gave him a dark look and he laughed, pulling her into a crushing hug. "Brego is next to receive the eldest brother wisdom, I lig /I ."

"He is, isn't he? I try not to think about him."

Helm gave her another quick squeeze and released her. "If what I hear is true, he will not be in the Westfold much longer."

"Really?" Her day just kept getting better.

Helm nodded. "He may be marrying his sweetheart who lives near the Gap."

"A wise move on his part. He wouldn't want his children to grow up without knowing their father."

"Enough about Brego!" Elfhild chided. "Today is about my lout of a husband" she gave Helm a fond look "and me, not his brothers."

"Of course. Forgive me," Cearo said, laughing. "If I may speak of another brother for a quick moment, I've spoken with Aelfrid so you won't have to find rope to tie me up with."

Elfhild's face lit up more, if it were possible. "Wonderful! I told you everything would be fine. Are you going to sit next to him when we eat?"

"And if I say 'no'?"

Elfhild's lips twitched. "But you are."

"I didn't say that." Cearo didn't look away from Elfhild, making sure to keep her expression neutral.

"But you are." Elfhild wasn't having any of it.

"Maybe." Cearo shrugged casually. "I'll see you later. I better let everyone else" she nodded her head slightly toward the group to her right "speak with you before they drag me outside and dump me in a puddle."

"It is about time you stopped chattering on, girl," the man next to Cearo said, giving her a wink.

She laughed and worked her way through the crowd to find where the family was sitting. Food was starting to come out from the kitchens and judging by the smells, everyone would be eating very well today and going home with an overfull belly.

She stopped, realizing she didn't know where she was going tonight. With the wedding over, she didn't have an excuse to be away from home any more. She bit the inside of her lip and suppressed a shiver. What would she do now? Why hadn't she thought ahead? If she went home tonight, it would be open season for Brego and Aelfrid to harass and pester her. They would likely leave her alone if she was with Rheda or Algar, but she couldn't be with one or both of them all the time and she knew the brothers would seize any chance they could find to press their suit. She silently cursed. Well, there wasn't anything to be done about it right now. Tomorrow she could talk to Rheda and find another reason for her to be gone. For one night, she could handle the brothers, or at least Brego. He was the worst. Aelfrid just didn't know when to shut up. She felt a smile push at the corners of her mouth. She'd give his ear a twist if he bothered her too much, just like she'd been doing for years. That would get the message across. Her smile grew. Now to think of a way to everyone else shut up about her and Aelfrid.

Her smile fell and she scowled as she started walking again. Why did everyone think she and Aelfrid would end up married? Being good friends didn't mean you'd end up married to each other. Before she'd come here, she'd had lots of guy friends and sure as heck they would never be anything but friends. People were stupid. They assumed about Aelfrid and that she'd want to marry as soon as she could after turning twenty. If anyone had bothered to listen to her, they would have known she was not going to rush into anything and it made no difference to her if she married at twenty or one hundred and twenty. No one did, though. They smiled indulgently and told her she'd see things differently after she turned twenty. She smirked, imagining how surprised and shocked they'd be when she didn't become a feather-headed idiot obsessed with marriage. She would marry when she met the right man and not before.


	11. Chapter 11

**Note:** Chapter contains some swearing.

Hands suddenly grabbed her shoulders. "Fuck!" she yelped, heart pounding. People around her looked over with alarm, then smiled and some laughed. She willed her heart to slow down. 'You're fine,' she told herself. 'Just someone who thinks they're funny.'

She reached back and felt at the hands on her shoulders. 'Hair. A man's hands.' No women had hair on the backs of their hands. 'Why is that?' Didn't matter. She could think about that later. Right now, she wanted to get loose and find out who had grabbed her. She tried to pull the hands off her shoulders, but the man's hold was too firm.

"Let go of me. Please," she added, an edge to her voice, when the person didn't release her. "Let go of me now." The person chuckled, and she immediately knew who the smartass was. "Let go of me, Aelfrid." She'd know that laugh anywhere. "Let go or I'll kick your bits in and you'll spend another month without the pleasure of my company."

"Dire threats, indeed," he teased, giving her shoulders a quick squeeze before dropping his hands.

"They're not threats, they're promises." She turned around to face him. "I'd love a reason to spend another month free from the practical jokes and pranks you uncouth barbarians love to play on me."

Aelfrid gave a bark of laughter. "The pranks and jokes _we_ play? What about the ones _you_ play? It was calm before you came."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure. I'd love to continue discussing whose pranks are most evil, but the food is coming out and I'm hungry." She turned and walked away, glancing over her shoulder when she was a few feet away to see if he was following her.

Rheda stared at Cearo for a moment, clearly skeptical, before nudging Kenric and telling him to move over.

"What is funny?" Kenric's voice broke into her thoughts.

"Just thinking of my family and somewhere we would go each summer." She looked over at him and smiled. "My brothers and I hated going. It's one of the few things we all agreed about."

"Your first family?"

"Yes."

"Why did you only have two brothers? Why did your parents not want more boys?"

"I guess they were happy with two." She had to try hard not to laugh at how baffled he sounded. "I'm older than both of them. Elladan's a year younger than me and Elrohir's eight years younger. Elladan, who we called 'Dan, told me one time if he'd had two sisters, he would have run away so he didn't have to be around girls all the time."

Kenric nodded earnestly. "So would I. I am glad I have brothers. They are fun to do things with."

"And I'm not?" She feigned being offended.

"Not anymore. You always have Wilone with you and you are always doing boring things with Ma."

"Those 'boring things' are the reason there is food to eat," she chided. "We also make sure you have clothes to wear, and if I was not with Wilone, it would be one of you watching her. I am not always with Ma or Wilone."

"You are most of the time." The movement of something being set down on the table near him caught his eye and he turned towards it, grabbing a baked potato when he saw it was a bowl full of them. He yelped and dropped it a moment later, clutching his hand to his chest.

Cearo had to lean back quickly to avoid being pushed aside by Rheda.

"What's wrong? What happened?" Rheda pulled his hand away from his chest and examined it. "What did you do?"

"The potato was hot!" Kenric whinged, a few tears sliding down his cheeks.

"He saw the bowl of potatoes and grabbed one before he realized they were still hot." Cearo bit her lip to keep from smirking. Kenric would have a fit if he thought she was laughing at him and it would take dunking him head first into a rain barrel to shut him up. As much as the idea of dunking him appealed, Helm and Elfhild's wedding feast wasn't the place to torment him.

Rheda let go of Kenric's wrist and gave him a stern look. "Maybe this will teach you to pay attention and think before you do something. Go outside and stick your hand in a puddle. It will feel better." She straightened up. "How that boy—how any of my boys—have managed not to get themselves killed is a mystery to me, with the way they are always charging off, straight into things, never thinking or looking first."

"There's a say where I come from that God looks out for fools and children." Cearo laughed softly. "Here, you would probably say the Valar look out for fools and children. My mother said that a lot whenever my brothers or I ended up in trouble."

"Your mother is a wise woman. Bema watches over fools and children, and men are very foolish sometimes. I do not know what they would do without us."

"I know." Cearo smirked. "They'd starve to death if we weren't there to cook for them, and they'd bleed to death if we didn't patch them up." She turned to face Rheda and raised her mug. "To keeping men from killing themselves." Rheda laughed and touched her mug to Cearo's.

"Toasting the happy couple?" Aelfrid asked brightly as he sat down where Kenric had been. "Where'd the pest go? I saw him run for the door like his clothes were on fire."

"He burned his hand," Rheda told him. "He did not look before he grabbed a potato from the bowl." She gestured with her head to the large blue bowl not far from Aelfrid. "I told him to go soak his hand in a puddle."

"You did not smear grease on it?" Aelfrid sounded surprised. "People will start to talk if you take any more of Cearo's advice, Ma."

"Let them talk." She gave Cearo a fond look. "She is right about some things and you know it." Her tone brooked no argument.

"I did not say she was not! I am only thinking of you, Ma. I know how you love to gossip with the other women when you are in town, and I would hate it if you could not because you were the one being talked about." Rheda gave him a dirty look, eyes narrowed, and he laughed. "You know—Cearo? What's wrong?" He reached out to grab her arm as she stood up, but she pulled it away before he could touch her.

"I need to go." Mind noisy with a million thoughts, she hurried toward the door.

She was walking quickly next to the road, skirts pulled up a bit to make walking easier, when something grabbed her left arm and she screamed. Orcs. How stupid was she, to be walking around alone? How could she forget about the Uruks that were around? She'd been too wrapped up in her thoughts to notice them and one had grabbed her and now it would rape her and kill her and—

"Cearo." Not an uruk, then. They didn't sound like Aelfrid. She wasn't sure if she was relieved it was him and not an uruk, or if she would have preferred the uruk. "What is wrong? Did you not hear me calling your name?"

"No. Let go of my arm." She studied the streams of water that flowed in the ruts wheels had worn into the road she'd been following. The road back to the farm, she noted idly. She must have been more wrapped up in her thoughts than she'd realized, because she'd never have gone that direction on purpose. She wanted to get away from Aelfrid, not go where he could find her. Him _and_ Brego both. Where was Brego, anyway? She hadn't seen him since they started to set up for the feast. Maybe he was waiting until Aelfrid wasn't around. That would probably happen when pigs started flying, she thought sourly. He seemed determined not to give her a moment alone—and why was he still holding her arm?

"Aelfrid, let go of my arm. Now." She looked up and gave him a dirty look, her nervousness and fear rapidly turning to annoyance and anger.

"What is wrong?"

"I'll be fine. Go and tell Ma I'll be back inside soon." She turned her attention to the mud splatters along the bottom of her over dress, studying the pattern of small dots and random lines carefully.

"I am not going anywhere until you tell me what is wrong, and do not tell me 'nothing'. People do not become white as death over nothing and they do not run out into the pouring rain."

"I was hot and I felt ill. Now leave me alone."

"You are lying." With his free hand, he tucked the hair that had been washed onto her face behind an ear and grasped her chin and raised her head until she was looking at him. "What is wrong? Why won't you tell me?" His eyes were filled with concern.

"I did. I felt a bit ill and did not want to risk becoming sick on someone." Her expression was stony. "Now leave me alone. You've been nothing but a bother, you and Brego both, never leaving me alone and always harassing me. All I want is some peace, and you can't—you won't—you refuse to let me have it. Just _go away_!" She tried to jerk her arm from his grasp and, this time, she was successful.

"I was concerned about you. So was Ma. You were pale as a ghost when you ran outside and I wanted to make sure nothing happened to you. I do not care if you are upset that I did not leave you in 'peace'." He regarded her with an irritated confusion. "Why are you suddenly so upset? I thought you were glad to see me."

"I was." She pushed his hand off her face and hugged herself.

"What changed?" He took a step toward her, his expression darkening when she moved backward, keeping the distance between them. "Cearo, what is going on?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Please, just…leave me alone." She turned and started off into the tall grass, abandoning the road.

"No." He grabbed her arm and pulled her around so she was facing him. "Why are you upset?"

"I told you, I don't want to talk about it right now."

"Why not? What did I do that's so horrible you won't even talk to me?"

"I didn't say I wouldn't talk to you, only that I didn't want to talk about it _now_. Right now, I want to be alone."

"In the pouring rain?"

"If it bothered me, I wouldn't have come outside."

He sighed loudly and roughly pushed back the hair that had been washed onto his face. "Cearo, stop acting like a child." He took her hands, lacing his fingers through hers, and she had to take a slow, deep breath to keep from freaking out. "Tell me and then I will leave you alone. I want to know why you are suddenly acting like someone put a mouse down your back."

"'Put a mouse down my back'?" She jerked her right hand free and slapped him hard enough to knock him off balance, and felt the warm glow of satisfaction in her chest when he stumbled to the side. It didn't last long, though, because he was still holding her left hand and when he stumbled, he pulled her with him and they both fell sideways into the grass, Cearo landing partly on top of him.

"I could get used to this," he said smugly.

"Don't expect to, asshole." She rolled off him. "Let go of my hand." He didn't. "I want to get up. Let _go_." 'I will mash his bits to a red pulp,' she swore to herself silently. 'I will mash his bits and break more of his teeth and shave his head.'

"Tell me why what you are so upset about."

She shifted on to her side so she was facing him. "You're either blind or stupid if you don't know."

"I am having no trouble seeing you glare at me, so I suppose that means I am stupid." He tone was dry. "What is it, oh, wise one, that I am too simple to understand?"

"Just let go of my hand and I'll tell you."

"You will stand up and run away and I will have to chase you. No."

"I won't." She was definitely going to mash his bits later for this.

"And you will tell me why you are being so quarrelsome?"

"Since I won't get rid of you any other way, I guess I have to." He was such a prick sometimes.

"That is what I have been telling you." He released his grip on her hand. "Your turn."

She clenched her teeth and took a slow, deep breath to nervousness that had quickly returned. "I saw the way you were looking at me, like I killed your dog. That's why I'm upset." She got to her feet and walked away. Aelfrid made no move to stop her.

A short time later, she recognized a small copse of trees ahead to her right and hurried over to it, eager for the shelter. Beneath the trees, there was a small pond that was fed by a creek that entered on the other side of the copse. It was a popular swimming and bathing spot when the weather was warm enough. If it had been sunny today, it was likely there would have been others already. Cearo leaned against the thick trunk of an oak tree and smiled. Some of the best pranks she had played on her brothers had been committed here and there were few things more wonderful in the summers than to take a break from the work and soak in the pond's coolness during the hottest part of the day.

She listened to the soothing patter of the raindrops on the canopy of leaves above her head and wished she could stay here for a while, but she knew if she did not return to the feast soon, more people would come searching for her and she did not want to ruin the celebration for Helm and Elfhild when there wasn't any good reason for it. Aelfrid would have made it back by now and told Ma she was fine, which gave her a little bit longer to spend out here.

'I think,' she mused, 'moving in with Helm and Elfhild would be an excellent idea. No one would argue with that, I'm sure.' Ma and Pa would likely be relieved not to have to deal with her and Aelfrid and Brego all being in the same place. She'd have to ride back and forth between Helm's and the family house to help Ma every day, but if that's what it took to keep things from going totally insane, it was worth it. Wilone would make a huge stink about it, though. She smirked. Maybe Ma would let her take Wilone with her, and carry her back and forth each day in a sack when she came to help Ma.


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: I sincerely apologize for how long it takes me to put up new chapters. Life insists on getting in the way of sitting down and letting the creative juices flow. Because, as some have pointed out, this is much more original fic than fanfic, I'm going to take 'Be Careful...' off and move it to fictionpress. My username and the title of the fic will remain the same._

Cearo, to all appearances, was unaware of the person who came into the copse several minutes later and came to stand next to her by the pond. Together, they watched the patterns raindrops made on the pond's surface in silence.

"I told you to leave me alone." Cearo was the first to speak.

"I did." Aelfrid's voice was even. "You did not say for how long."

"I will make sure to mention that next time." Shoving down the urge to throttle him, she turned so her back was to him.

"People are wondering where you are."

"So go tell them I'll be back soon." She glanced back over her shoulder when she didn't hear his footsteps and saw him still standing there. "Go back. People will start to wonder if both of us are gone."

"An excellent reason to stay, then." She could hear the smile in his voice.

"No, it's not. What part of 'leave me alone' did you not understand? I do not want to see you right now. I want to be _alone_. Go away."

Cearo hadn't expected him to actually listen to her, so she was not surprised when she didn't hear the crunch and crackle of dead leaves that would indicate he was leaving. The steady drumming of rain on the leaves over their heads was punctuated occasionally by the sound of one of them breathing. She was certain he was refusing to leave simply to annoy her. That, or he wanted to force her to talk to him about being courted instead of waiting until later. She ground her teeth, frustrated by his refusal to honor her requests. His crush, it seemed, wasn't the only thing unchanged during her month at Elfhild's.

"I did not know you saw me earlier."

"You do now."

A brief silence, then, "Why does that bother you?" She heard him walk towards her.

"Because I don't want you to like me like that. You should have gotten over your crush, or whatever it is, by now." She made no attempt to hide her irritation and annoyance.

"It is not that easy!" The frustration he felt was evident in his voice. "You are not some passing fancy or casual interest."

She snorted. "I know. Friends usually aren't."

"No, you do not know." He moved so that they were facing one another. "Why are you so against my wanting to court you? And why" he cupped her chin and turned her head so she was looking at him "do you refuse to meet my eyes today? You never had this problem before."

"Because rabbits dance in the moonlight." She smiled tightly and willed herself not to look away. What she saw in his eyes frightened her. She didn't want him to look at her like Helm looked at Elfhild. She wanted him to be safe, and when he was looking at her like that, he was anything but safe. "Why do you want to change everything? Why can't we continue to be good friends?"

"I cannot be your friend anymore." Each word cut deep, leaving an icy chill in its wake, and she wanted to cry out from the pain of it, but he was speaking again. "I love you, Cearo. I love you like a man loves a woman, not like a brother loves a sister. I cannot be happy with anything less." He took his hand from her chin and lightly rested it against her cheek. "Not anymore."

"I'm sorry." She was. She didn't want to hurt him, but she'd be lying if she said anything different. He did mean a lot to her, more than anyone else, but—what if she only loved him as a friend? It would not be fair to him if that were all it was. Elfhild's chidings echoed in her mind, telling her she loved him and how she'd been as miserable away from Aelfrid as Elfhild was when Helm was gone on patrol. So she had missed him? That didn't mean she loved him. Love was supposed to be a dizzy, dancing feeling and fireworks and walking on air and smiling all the time, and there wasn't any walking on air or dizzy, dancing feeling, unless you counted the times he knocked her off balance or grabbed her and pulled her up into the saddle with him without any warning. She was plenty dizzy then. So was he, when she was done with him.

Aelfrid said something, pulling her out of her thoughts. "What?" she asked.

"Why are you smiling like that?"

"Like what?"

His eyes narrowed. "Like you just thought of a good prank to play."

"Nothing like that." Technically. If pranks you'd already played didn't count. "Truly," she added when his face didn't relax. "I swear. Absolutely nothing you need to worry about."

He raised an eyebrow. "You expect me to believe that? When you smile like that, it never means anything good."

She laughed. "You're paranoid. I told you, it's nothing you need to worry about."

"If it is nothing, why do you refuse to tell me?" The naked emotion which had been in his eyes moment before was gone, replaced by a sly humor.

"Because"—she took several steps back, smile growing, and slipped around behind the tree she'd been leaning against was between them—"not everything I think about, you need to know. Not everything is your business."

"Humor me." He moved to where she'd been standing. "If it's nothing important." She shook her head. He studied her for a moment, and then shrugged (_too casually_, she silently noted).

Cearo quickly moved backwards, not taking her eyes off him. "Do not come near me," she warned. He was up to something. She'd smile smugly without having planned anything, just to mess with people, but when he acted casual like that, it always meant trouble, especially if he was smiling serenely, and most definitely when he was walking toward you after you told him not to come near you. He was definitely up to something and she could only hope a tree would fall down on him or something and give her a chance to get away and—walk backwards into a tree.

Aelfrid surged forward and caught her around the waist before she landed in the mud. "You should watch where you are going," he teased, mouth near her ear, as he slipped his other arm around her so he was holding her securely.

"I would have been if you hadn't been coming after me." She crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "I'm not going to tell you what I was thinking about, so let go of me. I am not joking and I am not playing games and you are really annoying me with ignoring when I ask you to stop bothering me about something."

"You have never kept anything from me before. This is not like you."

"There are lots of things I haven't told you. Like I said before, not everything is your business."

"If it involves me, it is my business."

She rolled her eyes. "What makes you think it involves you?"

"Lucky guess." He pulled her sodden braid out from between them and placed it over her shoulder.

"You aren't the only thing on my mind, so don't flatter yourself."

"So it does involve me."

She uncrossed her arms and jabbed him with an elbow.

"Does that mean you're considering letting me court you?" he asked, a hopeful note in his voice.

"It means I think about other things besides you." She exhaled loudly through her nose and leaned back against him. "Aelfrid, stop pushing the issue. Please. I do not know what I want right now, other than for you to let me think." She looked up at him so she was looking at the side of his face. "I don't want our friendship to be ruined. I don't want to lose that."

"The best marriages start with friendship."

"What if everything was ruined?" At her high school, lots of girls and guys who were friends had tried dating and ended up breaking up and hating each other.

"It will not be."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because" he moved his hands to her shoulders "we have been friends long enough" he turned her around so they were facing one another "that if we were going to kill each other, we would have by now." He gently gripped her arms and uncrossed them, taking her hands in his.

"Throttling you is very appealing right now." She puller her hands from his and crossed her arms back over her chest.

"I have wanted to throttle you as well." He held up a hand when she opened her mouth to say something. "That has not changed our friendship. You say you are upset with me right now, but you are still here, talking with me."

"It's hard to walk away when someone is holding you."

"I am not anymore. You are still here."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to walk away and let you think you're right and that I'm leaving because I know you are and I just don't want to admit it."

"You will see I am right." His expression became more serious. "I do not want to lose our friendship, either." He pulled her into a hug and held her, saying nothing. She uncrossed her arms, which were pressing uncomfortably into her breasts, and rested her hands on his chest.

When he made no move to release her after a moment, Cearo spoke. "We need to go back." This needed to end before it went too far. She was annoyed with herself for letting him hold her, which sent entirely the wrong message. The very last thing she—either of them needed now was for him to think she was open to him courting her when she wasn't. She needed to think. Her birthday wasn't for a few more days. Maybe by then, she'd have things figured out. She looked up to tell him they needed to return.

She froze when she realized Aelfrid was kissing her. Stunned, all she could think was 'This isn't how I imagined my first kiss'. She'd long since given up her fantasies of being kissed by her date on prom night, dreaming instead of something sweet and tender stolen in a moment behind a building by whomever she was going to marry. She thought it would make her feel like she were walking on air, like the kisses her friends had told her about. Being soaking wet, hungry, and upset with the man kissing her was a major disappointment, and why hadn't anyone mentioned how scratchy and uncomfortable beards were? The area around her mouth felt like she'd rubbed her cloak over it quite hard. 'This totally sucks,' she thought sourly.

Fueled by bitter disappointment and anger, Cearo stomped on his left foot and pushed him back when he released her.

"Get the hell away from me and do not come anywhere near me for the rest of the day," she said, words clipped. "You're as bad as Brego." Glaring at him, she scrubbed her sleeve against her lips and spat to get rid of the taste of him from her mouth. "I _am_ telling Ma about this when I get back."

"Cearo—" Aelfrid looked distressed, but it could have just been from the rain and hair in his face.

"Shut up. I don't want to talk to you. I don't want anything to do with you. Just go away. _Now_." She hugged herself and turned around and started toward the pool. "If you follow me, I will hurt you," she called back. He didn't.

She sat down by the pool; knees hugged to her chest, and let the tears she'd been holding back fall.


	13. Chapter 13

What little daylight had been able to pierce the thick clouds was rapidly fading when Cearo started back to the tavern. Rheda, she knew, would fuss over her and act as if Cearo were going to drop dead of severe illness right then and there, and when Cearo told Rheda her side of the story, Rheda would likely pull Aelfrid into the back by his ear and take him to task right then and there. At least, Cearo hoped she'd react that way. The last thing she needed was for Rheda to join Helm and Elfhild in putting pressure on her to let Aelfrid court her.

"Forget Helm and Elfhild," she muttered as she trudged along the road. "The whole stinking village will be on my back about Aelfrid." Absolutely love. Cearo glared at the large puddle in front of her. "I am going to kill Bema and Nessa—or at least chew them out," she amended, "for leaving me here. I should _not_ have to be dealing with this!" This kind of stupid garbage never would've happened back home. No one would've given her a hard time about not dating or getting serious with a guy, at least not seriously. Her parents hadn't married until they were both done with graduate school and her mom had always told her it mattered more that you were happy and content with your life than if you were dating or married and not to rush into anything. Her mother had been after her for days about how happiness is not found in a man after Cearo had said, within hearing of her parents, she'd never be happy unless Jack Harkness asked her out.

"This is all **your **fault, Bema!" Three birds burst out of the tree she was walking past, startled by her shouting. "It was **your **idea to leave me in the Land that Equal Rights Forgot! It's probably your fault I'm still here! You probably got busy dragging other girls off without telling them first and forgot about me!" She grabbed a stone off the road and hurled it at a nearby puddle, the height of the splash giving her a small measure of satisfaction. "What'd you do, take advice from Jareth the Goblin King and decide to leave me here because I said I wanted to go to Middle Earth? I'm sure you and him get along great, the way you both enjoy kidnapping children and tearing them away from their families! You dumped me here and forgot about me and now I have to deal with a whole marriage-obsessed village that doesn't see the problem with marrying a guy who's been a brother, and they all think I'll change my mind about marrying a guy I love and wake up as nuts as they are the day I turn twenty. It's all your fault I'm in this mess, so **FIX IT**!" As an afterthought, she added, "Nessa, if you're listening, talk some sense into your brother. Aelfrid's great but he's just a friend and…you know." Cearo sighed. "Thanks."

To delay having to deal with everyone, Cearo slipped in the door to the kitchen area when she reached the tavern. Dagmar was at the hearth, stirring a large pot of stew, when Cearo stepped inside.

"Dagmar." The woman looked up and a few of the others in the rear looked in her direction. "Could you go and tell Ma I'm here and I'm fine?" She shivered. "Oh, and do you have a blanket or something I could use to dry off and get warm?"

"Of course, child! Come stand by fire before you catch your death of cold!" Dagmar crossed the short distance between her and Cearo and took her arm and practically dragged her over next to the fire. "You can stir the stew for me while I am telling Rheda you are here." She pushed the long wooden spoon she'd been using into Cearo's hands.

"Thanks. I know everyone would be staring at me if I went out there and I don't want to take attention away from Helm and Elfhild."

Dagmar patted her arm understandingly. "Of course. That would be a terrible thing to do. You just stay here and stir the stew and I'll get Rheda. Try not to burn it." She winked at Cearo and bustled towards the front of the tavern.

As soon as Dagmar was gone, several of the other women in the back came over to Cearo.

"What happened?" Ardith, the miller's wife, asked excitedly. "Aelfrid looks as sour as a keg of spoiled ale and all he will say is that, yes, he talked to you and that you told him to leave you alone."

"Did you two have a fight?" Udela, Ardith's eldest unmarried daughter, seemed to relish the idea. "What did he do to make you tell him to leave you alone?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Cearo turned so she was facing the fire, hoping the women would take the hint and leave her alone until later. "I need to make sure the stew doesn't burn." Cearo was notorious for leaving a thick, hard burned layer on the bottom of the pot whenever she cooked. Why Dagmar had put her in charge of stirring the stew, Cearo had no idea but it made for an excellent excuse not to gossip and saying she needed to make sure it didn't burn was guaranteed to shut the other women up. None of them would want to risk distracting her and the stew burning. They would, after all, be eating it.

"Women back home have no idea how good they have it," Cearo murmured to herself. If she ever managed to return home to her family, the first thing she would do, after taking a long, hot bath with real soap and shampoo, would be to kiss the stove. The washer and drier would be next, followed by the fridge and the dishwasher, and she'd definitely pay a visit to the water heater. She laughed under her breath. Her family would think she was nuts, showing love to appliances, but if they had to live like she had for three years, they'd be kissing appliances and thanking God for modern technology, too.

'Bema or Nessa need to remember you're here first,' a small voice reminded her. 'You're doomed to burning bread and stew until then. And getting married whether you want to or not.'

"Thanks for the reminder," Cearo muttered. She did, technically, have the final say about whom she married, but it was unheard of for a woman not to accept a man whom she got on well with and who her parents approved of. Cearo and Rheda had talked about men and dating/courtship and marriage enough that Cearo had hoped Rheda understood, or at least accepted, that Cearo hadn't been raised to see marriage as a woman's only choice and that people married for love, not because he had a productive farm and she was good with kids and could cook well. Why was everyone so eager to marry her off to a guy who'd been like a brother for three years? Yeah, she'd been away for a month but it would take longer than that to change the way she saw him and then there was a fact he was just a friend and she was happy with the way things were.

Cearo felt her temper start to rise and she stirred the stew harder. It was totally unrealistic for people to expect her to shift mindsets in such a short time and suddenly be like, "Oh, Aelfrid, you're so wonderful!" and it really made her mad that people acted like she had no idea what she was talking about or treated her like she was some sort of freak because she wasn't obsessed with marriage and having kids and acting like it was her whole reason for living and being single was a fate worse than death.

When Dagmar returned to the back area with Rheda, Cearo started to smile but it vanished when Rheda met her eyes and frowned. 'I am _so_ dead,' Cearo thought. When Rheda frowned at you, it meant you were in trouble, and whomever Rheda pinned with her Death Glare usually ended up getting the switch. So much for her hopes that Rheda would see things her way and yell at Aelfrid for pushing the issue of courting Cearo when Cearo had made it clear she was not interested right now. Her gut had been telling her Rheda would side with Aelfrid and see Cearo's reluctance as totally refusing Aelfrid, but she hadn't wanted to listen. With her birthday in three days and two men already making their interest clear, she'd been a fool to think Rheda and Algar would be anything other than upset. Things would be tenser than a drawn bow at home tonight, and would stay that way until she agreed to let Aelfrid or Brego court her or she ran away.

'If only,' she mused silently, 'both of them had lost interest, but that would've been too easy and convenient.' Bema and Nessa were definitely going to hear about it when—if they ever showed up again.

"You are back." Rheda's tone was cool, her words clipped. "Elfhild said you could wear the overdress she wore this morning." She raised a hand when Cearo opened her mouth to speak. "You will have to keep your cloak on to cover yourself, as there is no dry shift for you to wear, but at least you will not get sick from being dripping wet. You, Algar, and I will discuss what happened later, when we get home. Do not say anything, Cearo. We will discuss it later. You have taken enough of today away from Helm and Elfhild already. I am not going to give you any more of it." With one last disgusted look, she returned to the feasting.

Dagmar, who had been hovering nearby, strode forward and grabbed the wooden spoon out of Cearo's hands as soon as Rheda started to leave.

"Go and put on dry clothes, child." Dagmar gently pushed her toward the storeroom. "Before you become sick."

"Go before I burn the stew, you mean," Cearo muttered softly. Maybe there was truth to what was said about marrying on rainy days. Today certainly had been horrible enough.

After she changed, Dagmar had her hang her wet clothes near the fire and then all but chased her out of the kitchen while telling Cearo to go and enjoy herself and get some food before it was gone. Cearo would've told Dagmar she wasn't hungry, but Dagmar would've taken that to mean she was sick and start fussing over her and that was the last thing Cearo needed, so she smiled and laughed and assured Dagmar she had every intention of piling her plate high and eating until she wanted to burst.

Out in the main room, Cearo could feel people staring at her, following her with their eyes as she walked over to where her family was sitting.

"Feeling better?" Kenric asked, as if nothing had happened.

"A bit." Cearo gave him a genuine smile. "Are you going to move over so I can sit down or will I have to shove you aside, brat?"

"Sit here." Rheda, in a 'this is not a request' tone, gestured to a space between her and Aelfrid. "There is plenty of room."

"Stay." Kenric elbowed Grindan and growled for him to move. "The light from your hair will help us to see what we're eating."

Cearo smacked the back of Kenric's head. "You eat too fast to see what you're putting in your mouth, and I will wrap my hair around your throat and strangle you with it if you don't stop making jokes about it."

"Stop bothering her," Rheda said sharply. "Cearo, come and sit down and eat."

"I'm fine here, Ma." She forced a smile and sat down next to Kenric and Tellan.

"Come down here."

"What did you do?" Tellan asked in a loud whisper. "Ma's really mad."

"Nothing I'm going to tell you about now." She gave Tellan a quick smile. "You and me will go hunt rabbits tomorrow, okay?" Stomach full of stones, she forced herself to stand up and step back over the bench.

"Great! Ma can roast the rabbits we catch for dinner!" The boy's face was lit up with a grin.

"Cearo, get down here." Irritation was clear in Rheda's voice.

"I'm coming, Ma. I was just telling Tellan I'd take him hunting for rabbits tomorrow while I stood up." Cearo wanted to tell Rheda to relax; she'd only just stood back up and she was going as fast as she could considering there wasn't much room to move around and people were packed in tightly. 'Like sardines in a can,' she thought dryly. 'Not that she'd understand what that means.'

It was only through an enormous force of will Cearo didn't veer toward the door, grabbing the first horse she found outside, and going back to the house. Sitting next to Aelfrid, though, was nothing compared to what she'd have to face if she caused a huge scene, so, eyes forward, she sat down between Rheda and Aelfrid.

"Is—" Before she could finish asking if there was a plate she could use, Aelfrid placed one full of food in front of her. Surprised, she looked up at him.

"Thank you," she said.

"Ma told me to." Without another word, he turned back to his meal.

Cearo stared at the plate of food in front of her for a long moment before picking up a turkey leg. The smell of the food had roused her appetite and she didn't want to face the rest of the evening with a growing stomach. She'd need all the strength she could get, especially at home.

Dagmar's stew came out in several large bowls a short time later.

"None of it burned," Udela teased in a low voice to Cearo on her way back to the kitchen for more stew. "Good job."

"I only stirred it for a few minutes, Lynna. Just because I'm not good at cooking doesn't mean everything I help with will be ruined, and as long as someone else monitors the oven the breads I make come out fine."

Udela looked offended. "I was just trying to be nice," she said crossly before walking away. Cearo saw her say something to another girl by the door to the kitchen and then both girls looked in her direction. Embarrassed and frustrated, she ducked her head and started picking at the cuticle on her right thumb, hoping the feasting would end soon. Once it did, the tables would be pushed back from the center of the floor and there would be dancing. She was a good dancer, so it was a guarantee there wouldn't be any shortage of men who wanted to dance with her tonight. She'd have to suck up and have at least one dance with Aelfrid, for the sake of appearances, but other than that, she had the perfect excuse to avoid him.

'Mom was right,' Cearo thought sardonically. 'It does pay to be polite.'

As the meal continued, it became clear to Cearo that Aelfrid was ignoring her, talking to others around him but never saying a word to her. Other than when she asked for something to be passed to her he acted as if she wasn't there at all, and when he did pass her something, he never looked at her.

Cearo was finishing her second bowl of stew when Baldric, Breca's youngest son, leaned across the table toward Aelfrid.

"What did she do, insult Osric?" From the way he slurred his words slightly, it was obvious he was drunk. "Did she say she prefers Osric's company? Is that why you are being so rude to Cearo?" Next to Aelfrid, Cearo began coughing loudly to dislodge the small piece of carrot she'd just inhaled.

"Piss off, Baldric. Your tunic is in the stew. Move. No one wants to taste your horse's shit when they eat."

"Nothing? No explanation for why you two have been feuding for over a month? It must be something terrible, indeed!" He looked at Cearo. "Women love to talk, so tell me what happened. What is your ever-patient lover—"

Aelfrid, in a huff, stood up while Baldric was talking, emptied his mug over Baldric's head, and then stalked toward the bar.

"Was it something I said?" Baldric remarked after a long, silent, uncomfortable moment, and then laughed. "Ale and horse shit. I have to taste this!"

Cearo, face flaming, stared blindly at her plate, acutely aware of the stares directed toward her and the empty space next to her. After the wave of intense mortification and desire for the earth to swallow her whole where she sat passed, she realized with growing horror that most of the talk tomorrow would focus on Aelfrid and her, not Helm and Elfhild. She buried her face in her hands and groaned softly. At least none of it was her fault. All she'd been doing was eating and minding her own business and trying not to draw any more attention.

Cearo let her hands drop into her lap. "May I go in back and help Dagmar?" she asked Rheda.

"That is an excellent idea." The older woman's color was high and her tone clipped. "Stay there until one of us comes for you."

"Of course. Thank you."

In the back, Cearo went straight to Dagmar. "How can I help? Ma and I thought it would be a good idea if I came back here for a while."

"A wise idea. Fill a bucket with scraps and take it to the pigs." She gestured to one near the door. "When you are done, you can tell us all what happened. What did you do to upset the boy?"

"It wasn't me." Her face flamed hotter. "It was Baldric. He is drunk and started asking why Aelfrid and me are fighting and why Aelfrid was ignoring me and Aelfrid got mad, dumped his ale over Baldric's head, and stomped off to the bar."

"Bema preserve us," Dagmar said with a sigh. "The last thing he needs is more ale. Go on, girl, feed the pigs." She glanced to her right at the group of women watching them. "They will be useless until you tell them everything, so hurry up."

Before facing the women in the kitchen, Cearo got a mug of cider from the bar to fortify her nerves. She was already feeling a bit drunk and knew the contents of the mug in her hands would ensure the rest of the night would pass in a giggly haze. 'I'll need to be in a good mood to get through the rest of the evening.' She smiled sardonically to herself. 'Maybe after another two or three mugs I will be in a good enough mood not to throttle Aelfrid. If I'm even able to throttle him.' She giggled, imagining how silly she'd look stumbling toward him and trying to wrap her hands around his neck.

Orva, Breca's second-youngest daughter, was trying to make Cearo admit she loved Aelfrid when Rheda came into the kitchen, saying Elfhild wanted to talk to Cearo.

"Yes, I will come back and tell you what she wanted," Cearo said dryly to the other women before any of them could ask. As she followed Rheda back out to the front room, she asked, "How mad are Helm and Elfhild?"

"Mad enough."

Cearo mentally shuddered. Helm was generally easygoing and hard to anger, but when he was truly upset, his temper burned hot and fierce. Cearo hoped he'd focus on Aelfrid and not her. She'd caused a stir, running out, but that could have been for any number of reasons and she'd had every intention of playing it cool the rest of the night. Aelfrid was the one who went and made the huge scene and stole all the attention from Helm and Elfhild and made sure everyone knew something was going on with him and Cearo. None of that was her fault.

"Do they want Aelfrid, too?" she asked Rheda.

Rheda nodded. "Helm was talking to him when I came for you. There has not been any yelling or fights breaking out, which surprises me. Both of them, their heads are ale-soaked. Not enough sense and reason between them for a young child."

"Dagmar said the last thing Aelfrid needed was any more ale after he went up to the bar for more after dumping his mug over Baldric's head." Cearo giggled, remembering how silly Baldric had looked with his hair plastered against his head and ale dripping off his hair onto the table and large bowl of stew. "I had nothing to do with that and I hope Helm and Elfhild know that."

"Do not worry; Helm saw everything. We are sitting near them, after all."

"Oh. Yeah." Duh. Of course they were sitting near Helm and Elfhild. They were his family. The cider was turning her brain to total mush. Once she emptied her mug, she was only having water the rest of the night.

When Elfhild saw Rheda and Cearo approaching, she leaned toward Helm, whispered something in his ear, and stood up and started toward them. Cearo felt herself tense up and she waited for Elfhild to start yelling at her.

"When I said you should sit by Aelfrid, I did not mean you should steal all the attention as well." Elfhild's tone was light and she was smiling, but the smile did not reach her eyes.

"I am so sorry! I wasn't thinking when I ran out and I didn't mean to make a scene and I was trying not to draw any more attention. I didn't want to totally ruin this for you and Helm and—"

"Cearo, enough," Elfhild interrupted. "Helm and I saw what happened with Aelfrid. We also saw he was ignoring you. Why?"

"I don't want to talk about that here." Cearo felt her face start to flame. "People already know too much."

"Lean close and tell me, then." Elfhild put an arm around Cearo's shoulders and turned her so both of them had their backs to the room. "What happened?"

Dreading the scolding that would come, Cearo told Elfhild about Aelfrid coming after her and their arguing and how he'd kissed her and she'd lashed out at him.

"I felt horrible, but all I wanted was to be alone and he wouldn't leave me alone." Cearo sighed. "Everything is a mess and everyone's paying attention to him and me now and I know Rheda and Algar are going to yell at me later for being stupid and refusing Aelfrid when all I did was say I wanted to be alone and to think." Cearo looked at Elfhild. "Do you understand, or do you think I've refused Aelfrid entirely and thrown away a perfectly good chance at marriage?"

"What I think does not matter. Aelfrid is convinced you will never have him, which is what he told your—our parents." Saying 'our parents', Elfhild smiled.

"It just gets better." 'Why' Cearo wondered 'do men insist on taking things the wrong way?' Out loud, she continued, "Maybe they will listen to you, sister—" she gave Elfhild's arm a squeeze "—if you tell them all I meant was that I need time to get used to seeing Aelfrid as something other than like a brother. Do you think Helm would let me borrow you tonight?" They both laughed. "Another day, then. Do you think if I talked to Helm and told him what I meant, he'd talk to Aelfrid?"

Cearo wished she could take back her second question when an expression of smug satisfaction began to spread across her sister-in-law's face.

"So you are willing to let Aelfrid court you."

"I did not say that, Elfhild. I said I need to get used to seeing Aelfrid as something other than a brother." She pulled away from Elfhild and crossed her arms over her chest. "Just because I'm going to be twenty in three days does not mean I'm suddenly obsessed with marriage, like you were six months ago. It _is_ possible to think a guy is great without wanting to marry him and saying 'not right now' does not mean 'never'."

Elfhild's smile faded. "I was not obsessed with marriage. Maybe you have not noticed, but that is a woman's role: to make sure there is a hot meal waiting for her husband when he comes in from the fields and to bear and care for his children. The one thing daughters can do for their families is to marry as soon as possible once they are grown so they are not a burden any longer than they must be."

"'A burden'?" Elfhild was more brainwashed than she'd thought. "You think we're a burden on our families if we're not married after we're twenty? Are sons over twenty burdens, too?"

"They do a lot more for the family than a daughter can, Cearo, and you know it. Extra hands in the fields mean enough food to get through the winter."

"And preparing the food means nothing? What about taking care of younger children? Turning the wool into yarn and cloth and clothing doesn't benefit a family? We are not burdens on our families." Cearo bit down gently on the tip of her tongue to keep from going off on Elfhild about her lousy view of women and their worth.

"You are not because you are the only daughter old enough to help your—help Ma. My mother has Moire and Edit, and Gurda will be old enough to start carding wool and milking the cow in a few months. Why should I not look to marry as soon as possible when all I would be is another mouth to feed?" After a moment, she continued, "Cearo, you need to grow up and set aside your childish ideas of marrying whenever you want to and only if you love a man. You will end up alone and dependent on others for your food and shelter if you do not." She held up a hand when Cearo opened her mouth to argue. "I understand Aelfrid's interest came as a surprise and you want time to get used to not seeing him like a brother. I will talk to my husband" she blushed "and ask him to talk to Aelfrid. I do not think Ma and Pa will have a problem with that, and I'm sure you could come live with Helm and me for a time."

Cearo felt a huge rush of relief. "Thank you." She gave Elfhild a hug. "That will be fabulous."

"On one condition."

"What?" Cearo stepped back suddenly tense again.

"You allow Aelfrid to court you. I am not going to humor your unrealistic ideas anymore, and I know Helm and Ma and Pa agree with me. There is no good reason not to. You are good friends with him—"

"—Or used to be," Cearo interjected sardonically.

Elfhild gave her a Look. "He is only hurt over what happened earlier. His mood would improve if you told him you overreacted because you were surprised, and that you are thinking about what he said."

"And then he will not leave me alone for the rest of the evening and I'll end up throttling him."

Elfhild laughed lightly. "It could be worse. It could be Brego."

"That is not even funny!" Cearo thought about it for a moment then shuddered involuntarily. "Bema save me from him! If he bothers me tonight, Elfhild, I will run out the door again. I love you and Helm very much and do not want to ruin your wedding and make another scene, but if that's what I have to do to get away from him, I will."

"I understand." Elfhild smiled slyly. "I am sure everyone else—"

"—Except Deagol."

"Except Deagol—and stop interrupting me—will understand. Try less…attention-getting ways first, though." She gave Cearo a quick hug. "Everything will be fine."

"I want my wife back!" Helm called loudly. "You can talk about whose wool was a brighter green later!"

Cearo and Elfhild looked at each other then laughed.

"Just for that," Cearo said in a low voice, "he should have to wait even longer."

Elfhild shook her head slightly. "He is right. We can discuss our wool later. There is not much more to say about green dyes, anyway."

"That's right, let him order you around." Cearo's smile took any sting out of her words. "Go back to your lout of a husband. I'll find someone else to discuss dying with. Oh, have fun tonight."

To Cearo's surprise, instead of turning deep red and becoming flustered, Elfhild smiled widely and said, "I will let you know" before returning to the table.

_A/N: I received a few 'please, leave it here!' comments in response to my note in the last chapter that I'll be moving this fic to fictionpress. The direction I (read: the plotbunnies) want to go with the story is totally OC and involves canon even less than it does now, so it will be moving to fictionpress. Since there is a strong fanfic aspect I'll be leaving it up here and writing a nice, neat, fandom-friendly ending so no one is left hanging and it doesn't become one of the thousands of other stories left unresolved (which, as a reader, really bugs me)._


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Apologies to everyone who is waiting for canon to make an appearance. The plotbunny originally told me the wedding would only take two chapters. 'Galdricge' means 'enchantress' in Old English.

Mood lightened by her talk with Elfhild, Cearo returned to the kitchen.

"The happy couple saw everything, so Aelfrid is the only one facing certain death for causing a scene. Elva, there are some platters out on the head table that are empty. I'd have grabbed them, but they're by Aelfrid, so…."

"You want to avoid more drunken scenes. Very good idea. Don't tell anyone what Elfhild said until I get back! I don't want to miss anything."

"Then go fast!" Acca, the miller's wife, called after her, and then turned to Cearo. "What did Elfhild want to talk to you about, if she already knew Aelfrid had been a drunken fool?"

"I'm waiting until Elva gets back." Cearo smiled slightly and leaned against the hearth. "No one would be quiet long enough for me to tell Elva what I'd already told you, so I'm only saying it once."

"What did she say about Aelfrid?" Wilda demanded.

"I already told you. She and Helm saw that what happened was entirely Aelfrid's own doing."

"What else?"

Cearo grinned. "You'll have to wait. If you're that eager, go and help Elva." Immediately, three women left.

When Elva and the others returned with empty platters and bowls, they set them down haphazardly on top of other dishes waiting to be scraped and wiped off and joined the group by Cearo.

"Elfhild wanted to know what happened out in the rain to make Aelfrid ignore me. I told her, and she told me to apologize to Aelfrid for overreacting and say I'd consider what he said, and that she understood needing to get used to seeing Aelfrid as something other than a brother so if I'd agree to let Aelfrid court me she'd talk to Helm about me staying with them."

Orva giggled excitedly. "You're going to let Aelfrid court you?" She giggled again.

"I did not say that. I said that is what Elfhild wants me to do."

"Use your ears more and your mouth less, girl." Dagmar gave her daughter a reproving look. "That is why Eru gave you two of these—" she pinched one of Orva's ears "and only one of these—" she tapped a finger against Orva's lips. "No man wants a wife who is quick to speak and slow to listen."

Cearo laughed. "I can't imagine why any man would want to marry me, then."

"You are far less silly than my daughter, but she is right in one thing. You should allow Aelfrid to court you." A smile teased at her lips. "You will have no peace until you do."

"I'm getting that idea," Cearo said with a resigned sigh. "Am I the only one in the village who didn't know until last month Aelfrid wanted to court me? What?" Everyone was looking at her like she'd just admitted to not knowing where wool came from.

"You did not know?" Udela and her mother traded amused looks. "It was obvious."

For the third time that day, Cearo wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole. "Not to me," she admitted, face flaming. "Where I am from, it is normal for guys and girls to be friends and spend lots of time together."

"It is also normal where you are from for men to spend whatever time they are not working with the same woman, and to go out of his way to do things for her, and to find excuses to be with her and stand near her and touch her?" Gurda, Cearo's closest girl friend, leaned toward Cearo and tugged lightly on her braid. "It is also obvious to everyone that you are quite taken with him as well, so stop saying you are not."

"We are just friends and leave my braid **alone**!" Cearo stuffed it down the back of the overdress. What was it about her braid; that everyone had to pull it? "Like I said, guys and girls—it's normal for guys and girls to be friends where I'm from. I like spending time with him. I used to spend a lot of time with Helm, too, until he became betrothed to Elfhild, and no one was going on about how Helm and I were interested in one another, and the reason Aelfrid is always helping me on and off Cwen is because—and you know it's true—I look like a complete fool trying to mount and dismount on my own. I'm likely to trip over my own feet when dismounting and fall on the ground if someone does not help me."

"Is he the only one able to help you? Is that why he is always the one helping you?" Gurda chided. "Even when there is a mounting block, you wait to wait for him to help you. Everyone has noticed." The other women nodded and voiced their agreement.

Cearo rolled her eyes. "You must have very boring lives to be making a big deal out of nothing. I don't like mounting blocks. That's all it is. I've had guy friends before, so I'd know if I were interested in Aelfrid as more than a friend. Gurda, Orva, stop looking at me like that! If you're so desperate for romance, go pester Helm and Elfhild and leave me alone. I'm going to clear tables."

Dagmar grabbed her wrist. "You stay here. The others will do that."

"We are not done talking with Cearo," Orva whined.

"Yes, you are." Dagmar's tone brooked no disagreement. "The sooner tables are cleared, the sooner the dancing begins."

Those, apparently, were the magic words because Orva closed her mouth and hurried out to the main room with the others without another word.

"Are you trying to get me alone so you can talk to me one-on-one about why I should let Aelfrid court me and that I need to stop denying I like him as much as he likes me?" Cearo said dryly. "Are you going to keep at me until I break and give in to all the pressure?"

"No, you are safe for now." Dagmar released her wrist and shuffled over to where she had a small pot and an empty bowl. "You came back here to avoid the talk and stares and that is exactly what will start again if you go out to clear tables."

Cearo nodded and went over to her clothes, turning them over so what was still wet would have a chance to dry before it was time to leave.

After a long moment of silence, Cearo spoke. "Dagmar, I have a question."

"I might have an answer."

"Don't tell Ma."

"I will tell no one. What is your question?"

"All this stuff with Aelfrid. Everyone is pushing me to let him court me and they act like I'm foolish for not being all excited about it and no one can understand why I'm not and I'm afraid to tell anyone the real reason because I'm afraid they'll laugh at me and tell me I'm just being stupid and to get over it." She took off her cloak and looked around for a place to leave it to hang to dry. "Maybe I am just being silly and stupid."

"And you want to know if you are." Dagmar began pouring the contents of the jar into the bowl. "How can I when you have not told me what your reason is?"

'Smooth move, Exlax,' Cearo thought dryly. 'Telling her would help.' To Dagmar, she said, "It—he scares me. The way he looks at me. It makes me feel uncomfortable and kind of scared and—everything has changed suddenly and I felt safe with Aelfrid and everything was fine and now everything's changed and I don't know what to do." She hugged herself and stared blindly at the worktable. "Everything has turned upside down and everyone acts like I'm wrong for wanting things to go back like they were. Everything is changing and I'm confused and scared and—I don't know what to do—what _I_ want to do. I told Aelfrid to leave me alone; I needed to think and he kept on pushing and pushing and he kissed me and—Dagmar, what do I do?"

The older woman said nothing as she finished emptying the pot into the dish and set it down to her right. There was some tension in the silence as Cearo waited for Dagmar to speak, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Cearo was content to rest back against the side of the hearth and watch Dagmar work.

Dagmar cleared her throat. "I can see why you would be feeling unsettled and confused. It would be a big shock, to learn Aelfrid has decidedly un-brotherly affection for you."

"Brego, too."

"Brego as well?" Dagmar's surprise was obvious.

"Unfortunately. He told me he was interested—actually, he kissed me and that was his way of telling me—right after he told me that Aelfrid was interested in me."

"Oh, my. And Rheda knows?" She turned to look at Cearo, who nodded. "Oh, my. What a mess you have found yourself in, child!" She chuckled sympathetically and moved around the table, pulling Cearo into her embrace. "Small wonder you are confused and feel scared."

"So you don't think I'm being silly and stupid?"

"Only a little." Cearo looked up at her and saw Dagmar was smiling at her. "Only when you say you have no interest in Aelfrid."

"Only as a friend. I know how I feel. I'm tired of everyone insisting it's more than that." She lowered her head, resting it on Dagmar's shoulder. "Everyone acts like they know better than me how I feel and what I should do and it makes me mad."

"We mean no harm, my dear. Us older women know love when we see it, is all."

"Why does everyone think I love him?"

"You are—" Several women entered the kitchen then, carrying empty platters and bowls, cutting Dagmar off. "Come talk to me tomorrow, Cearo." She gave the younger woman's hand a quick squeeze and stepped back, returning to where she had been working.

"The tables are almost clear!" Orva announced excitedly. "I hope Edwyn asks me to dance with him! He is so cute!" She giggled.

"Why don't you ask him?" Cearo suggested, laughing at Orva's shocked expression. "Men like confident women."

"There is a difference between confident and forward." Acca gave Cearo a stern look. "Is that how Gondorian woman act; like harlots?"

"I was teasing her, Acca. I wasn't serious." Cearo clenched her teeth briefly, willing herself to remain calm and polite. Act like a harlot, indeed. "I don't know how women from Gondor act, but if I hear, I'll let you know."

"I thought you were from northern Gondor."

"No, I grew up near the Fords of Isen. Good, solid Rohirric stock." She smiled brightly at Acca. "Wouldn't surprise me if there's a bit of Dunlander in my blood from way back, though. Father's family always was rather strange." Cearo was tempted to mention a great-great-great grandmother's rumored dalliance with Saruman, but decided not to. The Dunlander ancestry was enough of a scandal for one day. She smothered the urge to grin and laugh with glee at the idea of how many feathers her background would ruffle in the village.

She checked her clothes several minutes later and was thrilled to find they had dried out enough she could wear them comfortably.

Kenric was waiting outside the door to the kitchen for her when she came into the main room.

"May I have the first dance, my lady?" he asked with a formality that made Cearo laugh.

"Of course you may, kind sir." Grinning, she put her hand in his and let him lead her to the area that had been cleared for dancing. "Thank you for asking me before anyone else did. The last thing we—the family, I mean—need is for people to see Aelfrid snubbing me."

"That is why I was waiting for you." He winked at her. "I thought you would like the pleasure of having the first dance with the most handsome man here as well." She curtsied to him as the band played the first notes of the dance.

"But I'm dancing with you instead. Maybe I can have the next dance with the most handsome man in the room, if Elfhild will let me."

"That is fine thanks, insulting me after I spare you from embarrassment!"

She shrugged as they did something similar to a do-si-do. "I did not say you were not handsome, only that you were not the most handsome man here. You are quite good-looking, Kenric. If you were a few years older, I would marry you without a second thought."

"You will not wait for me?" He lifted her by the waist and spun her around.

"I wouldn't mind, but I'm sure Brego would have something to say about that." She wrinkled her nose. "If—when he complains, I'll tell him to talk to you and you can explain to him why I should refuse him to wait for you. I know! Ask him if he wants a wife with Dunlander blood." She told him about her conversation with Acca.

"That explains your hair."

"Are you implying red hair is something bad?" She gave his ponytail a tug as he set her down.

"Do you think I would be foolish enough to say 'yes'?" He grabbed her braid and tugged it.

She narrowed her eyes and scowled at him. "If I find out that's what you meant, I will smother you while you sleep."

He laughed. "It also explains why you always react with threats of violence. I am surprised you have not killed us all in our sleep yet."

She smiled ferally. "There's always tonight."

As she'd expected, Cearo was never wanting for a dance partner. Neither was Aelfrid, who seemed intent on charming and flirting with every unmarried female eighteen and older except Cearo, a fact that became embarrassingly apparent after several dances.

When the band took a break, Cearo sat down next to Rheda, who wordlessly handed a sleepy Wilone over to her before heading in the direction of the bar.

"Are you and Ma having fun, Little Bird?" She rested her head on top of Wilone's, who was sitting with her back against Cearo's chest.

"I'm tired." She wiggled until Cearo let go of her and then turned around so she was facing Cearo and straddling her lap and wrapped her arms around Cearo's neck.

"Do you want me to find you somewhere to sleep until the dancing is over?"

"Nuh-uh. I wanna stay with you." Her arms tightened around Cearo's neck.

"Please let go a little bit, honey. You'd holding too tight. Thank you. You are with me right now."

"Will you be home tonight?"

"Do you want me to be?" She put her arms around Wilone and hugged her close.

"Yeah." Wilone lifted her head so she was looking at Cearo. "Why did you leave? I have to sleep with Mama an' I don't like that. She makes really loud snort noises when she sleeps a lot an' it's hard to sleep."

Cearo resisted the urge to laugh at Wilone's "snort noises" and wondered what Rheda would say if she was told she snored.

"I was helping Elfhild get ready to marry Helm. I'm sorry you had to sleep with Ma."

"I'll sleep with you tonight." It was a statement, not a question.

"Of course." She kissed the tip of the little girl's nose, making her giggle. "I missed you, too. I'm not used to sleeping without you holding onto my arm." 'And kicking my side and whimpering and holding my arm so tight I lose feeling in my fingers and laying half on top of me and making your own snort noises,' Cearo added silently. She hadn't thought she'd miss the toddler, but her left side had felt strangely empty and bare without Wilone pressed up against it and falling asleep had been hard for several days.

"Who did you play with when I was gone?" Cearo asked. "Did Tellan and Grindan play with you?"

"Sometimes. They're not fun like you. They don't like to play dolls or make crowns. They just like to hit each other an' yell and bang their wood swords together a lot. Helm is nice to me. He let me ride Ser-win with him an' he told me stories." Her excited smile spoke volumes. "Aelfrid told me stories, too, an' gave me piggyback rides an' let me pet the sheeps an' lambs an' sit on the sheeps. They're real soft. We got berries, too. I ate a lot and got a tummy ache an' Mama said she hoped I'd learned my lesson an' would leave some berries in the bucket next time an' she was mad with Aelfrid an' Kenric for letting me get a tummy ache." Wilone took a deep breath. "Morwen's babies are real big now an' Mama let me bring the black an' white one, like a cow, inside to be my friend an' Aelfwine's friend. I named it Gally 'cause that's easier to say than 'galdricge'. I'm tired. I wanna go home."

"We will. Soon. Do you know where Pa is?"

Wilone shrugged and shook her head. "If I did, could we go home?"

"I don't know, Little Bird." She hugged Wilone.

Rheda returned a few minutes later with two mugs of cider, one of which she handed to Cearo.

"You look thirsty." The older woman smiled at Cearo.

"Quite. Thanks." She took a long drink from the mug. "Wilone was telling me everything she did while I was gone. You let her bring a kitten into the house?"

"She would not stop pestering me about it and you know how Algar is with her." Rheda's expression softened and she stroked Wilone's hair. "He would have let her bring all the kittens, and Morwen, too, into the house if I had not refused. Wilone was very mad at me for several days."

"You're a very mean mother," Cearo deadpanned, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "How could you deny your daughter her heart's desire?"

"Very easily. We do not need nine more cats in the house. There are too many right now, but it will be large enough to hunt mice soon enough and make itself useful. You know several cats always disppear by the harvest so we will need another good mouser."

"Aelfwine is mouser enough for five cats. Is the kitten a boy or a girl?"

"A girl. Did Wilone tell you what she is calling it?"

Cearo nodded. "Did she tell you where she heard 'galdricge'? From Brego," she continued, not waiting for Rheda to answer. "She told me he says it's a better name for me than 'cearo'."

"It would explain the effect you have had on two of my sons."

"Not on purpose, I promise." Cearo smiled wryly. "If I had any powers, I'd enchant them to go after other women and leave me in peace."

"Little pitchers have big ears." Rheda nodded at Wilone. "We will talk about this later."

"Of course. It's funny Brego would say I should be called Galdricge. Where I am from, that is what one of my names, Tinuviel, means." The words surprised her. Why was she telling Rheda this when, for the last three years, she'd said little about her life before coming to Rohan. She'd been sharing a lot about her life before Rohan in the past several months. 'I'm a regular fount of information,' she thought dryly.

"Truly? That is strange." After a moment, she said, "Why did you not say something before now?"

"I did tell you my name, but you all had trouble with it and people already knew me as Cearo, so I decided to stay with that." She shrugged. "It didn't seem very likely to me I'd ever get back home, since no one knew where to find me, so I decided to leave behind my old life and start new. Maybe I should have insisted on a happier name, like 'laughter' or 'sunshine', instead of letting people keep calling me 'sorrow'." She smiled to show she wasn't upset.

"You should have said something." Rheda took Cearo's free hand and gave it a squeeze. "I doubt anyone remembers why you are called 'Cearo' anymore, except our family."

"I know. It does not matter, truly. There are many people whose names are ill-fitting. Our Tellan rarely stops to consider anything and the only thing Andsaca Teonson is the enemy of is the biting fly that dares to land on him. My other given name, Luthien, means 'nightengale' and you know I cannot carry a tune." Both women laughed. "Could you do me a favor and find Helm and tell him I want to dance with him? I'd go myself, but—" she nodded down at Wilone "—I'm a bit weighed down at the moment."

"I can take her if you want."

"No, Mama! I wanna stay with Ce'ro!" Wilone gripped Cearo tightly.

"The princess has spoken," Cearo said dryly. "Tell Helm he'll need to get Wilone's permission to dance with me."

Rheda stood up and, clearly amused, said she'd make sure to warn Helm he might have to dance with two ladies at once.

"I'm gonna stay with you all night," Wilone declared as Rheda left. "I don't want you leaving me at all again."

"Little Bird, I will have to leave you at some point to go to the bathroom and I will have to set you down when I need to take off my overdress. You cannot cling to me forever."

"You need to come right back."

"I always come back, Little Bird. When didn't I come back when I said I would?"

"You told me you were only going to help Elfhild for a little while and you were gone a long time!"

"I'm sorry, honey. I thought I told you I would be gone for a while but I would be coming back." She hugged Wilone tightly and kissed her forehead. "I will never, ever go away and never come back, not unless something keeps me from coming back."

"You promise?" The question sounded more like a desperate plea, breaking Cearo's heart.

"I promise. You're too cute not to come back to."

Cearo and Wilone were singing a silly song about Tom the Toad and his friends when Rheda returned.

"Helm says he will dance the next dance with you and that he would consider it an honor if he were to dance with both you and Wilone, two of the most beautiful girls here." Rheda adjusted Wilone's hose so they covered her entire legs instead of bunching below each knee.

"Elfhild being the most beautiful, of course." Rheda nodded and Cearo grinned. "He's obviously biased. Wilone is the most beautiful. She will break the hearts of many men when she is older."

"No, I won't!" Wilone protested. "I'll be real careful. I won't break nothing!"

Cearo and Rheda looked at each other, both trying not to laugh.

"I hope she does not give me as much trouble as you have," Rheda teased.

"If by 'trouble' you mean grown men acting like petulent little boys because they cannot have their way, I hope so, too. I never wanted or asked for any of this. I'm surprised it's been Aelfrid, not Brego, causing a stir."

"He will be dancing with you after Helm. I have told him to or he will sleep with the horses for the next month."

"Who; Aelfrid or Brego?"

"Aelfrid, of course. Brego is—I am not sure where he is." Rheda stood and looked around the room, but without success. "I am surprised he has not tried to claim you for a dance yet."

"So am I." A chill ran down her back, making her shiver. "I have no idea what to make of Brego suddenly being interested in me. I thought he disliked me as much as Deagol does." Brego had never liked much of anyone, save Deagol, but he'd seemed to have a special dislike of her, especially after she and Aelfrid became good friends.

"Speak of the devil and he will appear," Cearo muttered, spotting the subject of the conversation coming toward her and Rheda.

_**A/N:**__ Please do not tell me you wish I'd update more often. It annoys me. When I have something new, I update. Like all other authors on this site, I have things IRL that take priority over fanfic and there are times my fountain of ideas runs dry. I'd love to be updating every few days or once a week, but that's not always possible. I'm sorry when there are long stretches between chapters. In an idea world, there wouldn't be._


	15. Chapter 15

"Speak of the devil and he will appear," Cearo muttered, spotting the subject of the conversation coming toward her and Rheda. "Is it too late for a sudden bout of projectile vomiting?"

"Did you say something?" Rheda looked deeply concerned, which struck Cearo as highly amusing. What did Rheda think she was doing, calling torment and agony down on Brego? There'd been enough trouble already. The last thing she needed was another reason to have to take refuge in the kitchen.

"Sorry; I didn't realize I was using English. I was thinking out loud about how we were talking about Brego and then I saw him walking over here." She gestured with her head in Brego's direction. "It's a saying we have where I'm from."

Rheda gave Cearo a look like she wasn't quite sure to believe her or not.

"I hope I am not interrupting anything," Brego said as he sat down next to his mother.

"Not at all." Rheda shifted so she didn't have to crane her neck to talk to Brego. "I was telling Cearo Helm insists on having the next dance with her, and Aelfrid the dance after that. Have you been dancing with Freda Hamasdoter? I thought I saw you dancing with her earlier." She smiled fondly at him. "You two look very handsome together. Don't you think so, Cearo?" The look she gave Cearo demanded she agree.

"I guess." Cearo would have been laughing into her mug of apple wine over Rheda's painfully obvious attempt at matchmaking if it wasn't for the fact Rheda had insisted on dragging her into it. Under the pretense of tucking in loose pieces of hair from Wilone's braids, she glanced at Brego's face to see what his reaction to Rheda's comments was and found, to her surprise, a dry, resigned amusement in his expression. She'd thought he'd be upset about it, not finding it funny. She wondered how she'd missed Rheda pestering him about marriage before this.

"You 'guess'?" Brego asked lightly, teasing. "You do not think she would make me a good wife?"

"No worse than any other girl in the village. She's only just turned eighteen, though." Cearo looked up from Wilone's head and met his eyes. "I'm sure there's a blonde beauty who's already turned twenty who'd be a good wife, but if you chose to wait for Freda, you wouldn't be the first. To wait for a woman to come of age, I mean, not the first to wait for her, specifically, but maybe you'll be that, too." She smiled blandly and sat back up. Wherever her wits had gone to, she wanted them back. She sounded like a tongue-tied idiot and Brego was the last person she wanted to look foolish around.

"My friend, Gurda, is not married yet, and she's a very good cook and weaves wonderfully soft cloth."

"Neither are you." Brego's suddenly-serious expression belied the humor in his voice and there was a naked vulnerability in his eyes that threw Cearo off-balance with its foreignness. "If I wanted to marry Gurda, I would have talked to her father already."

"We're not the only two women in the village. I'm sure you'll find someone." She had to get out of here. Where was Helm? What was taking him so long? She craned her neck, hoping to see him, but if he was there, she couldn't pick him out of the sea of equally blond heads. 'I'm trapped with the Children of the Corn,' Cearo thought sourly. 'If they need a human sacrifice, I'm volunteering.' She had no idea what to make of Brego, who was far less irritable and short-tempered than usual. He'd totally caught her off-guard when he hadn't gone on the defensive in response to her comment about Gurda. What was with the Mr. Sensitive act? Was she supposed to be so stunned by the change that she forgot the last three years and suddenly fell in love with the kinder, gentler Brego? Pigs would fly first. She'd seen too many men who were jerks act all sweet and nice when courting a woman and then go right back to being a jerk after the wedding to fall for Brego's act. Deagol had pulled that on Esma and Cearo had never forgiven him for it.

"I am sure I will." He smiled sanguinely after a moment. "Dance with me after Helm and Aelfrid. I am afraid if I do not ask you now, I will never have the chance to dance with you."

"Are you asking me or telling me?" Inwardly, Cearo was smug over how quickly Brego had reverted to his old ways.

"Asking, of course."

"That's not what it sounded like."

He had the good grace to look chagrined. "Would you dance with me?"

"I—" Rheda pinched her side hard. "Yes. After Aelfrid." She tried to keep the confusion she was feeling off her face. What the heck was Rheda thinking? First she'd been pushing Brego toward a girl who was two years from being able to marry, and now she wanted Cearo to dance with him? If Cearo didn't know better, she'd think Rheda was drunk. She would definitely have to talk to her later. Hopefully, all Rheda wanted was to try and keep Brego happy and avoid trouble as long as possible.

The surprised look her answer brought to his face was quickly replaced by a pleased expression.

"I look forward to it," Brego said, and then stood up. "I will go find Freda Hamasdoter and see if she is free for a dance."

Cearo watched after him until she lost track of him in the crowd before turning to Rheda.

"Why did you pinch me to dance with him?"

"Why would I do that?" Rheda looked as if she couldn't believe Cearo would ask such a thing. "I wanted you to say 'no'. I cannot believe you agreed! I thought you did not like him."

"I don't like him. What made you think I'd say 'yes'?"

"I know how you love to dance. I am glad he said he wanted to dance with Freda Hamasdoter again. I hope she will distract him from you."

"Perhaps." Cearo bit the tip of her tongue and made a conscious effort not to let the irritation she was feeling show on her face. Yes, she loved to dance but that hadn't stopped her from refusing men who asked in the past, and Rheda knew that, which she suspected was the reason she'd told both Aelfrid and her they'd be dancing (that, and it was doubtful Aelfrid would have on his own).

When Helm came to claim Cearo for the dance and Cearo tried to give Wilone to Rheda, the little girl tightened her hold around Cearo's neck and began whinging.

"I don't wanna go with Mama! I wanna stay with Ce'ro!"

"She will be back soon, Little Bird," Rheda said soothingly. "She is only going with Helm."

"I'll be back, sweetie, I promise. I'm only going to dance with Helm." Cearo tried to pry Wilone's arms loose from her neck, but the little girl was surprisingly strong. "Why don't you want to go with Ma?"

"I wanna stay with you!" Wilone buried her tear-streaked face in Cearo's shoulder. She spoke again, but the fabric of the overdress muffled the worlds. Cearo asked her to look up and repeat herself.

"Why can't I go with you and Helm? You said he could dance with both of us."

Cearo sighed and glanced up at Helm, who was watching Wilone's fit with muted resignation. Cearo smiled with what she hoped was reassurance and turned her attention back to Wilone.

"Honey, Helm wants to dance with only me right now. You need to go with Ma. You and I can both dance with him later."

"No! I wanna stay with you!"

"Wilone, please, come sit on my lap." Rheda pulled gently on the child's waist. "Let Cearo go dance with Helm."

Before Wilone could protest again, Cearo managed to break Wilone's grip on her neck. Quickly, she pried the girl's arms off her neck and pushed her toward Rheda as she stood up.

"Stop being a brat," Cearo told Wilone sternly. "I know you missed me when I was away, but that's no reason to act like a baby and be mean to Ma. Do you want Pa to hear you were mean to Ma?"

"No! I'll be good!"

"I hope so." Cearo kept her expression stern. "I know Pa wouldn't want to hear his Little Bird wasn't being good." She'd idolized her father the same way when she was Wilone's age and not wanting Daddy to be disappointed or upset with her had been a powerful motivator for good behavior. To Helm, she said, "Shall we dance?"

They joined the other couples dancing only moments before the band started playing a lively song.

"I don't think I've ever seen you smile so much before," Cearo remarked as the dance began. "I don't think I've seen either of you smile so much before. I'm glad. I'd hate to see either of you married to someone who didn't make you happy."

"I am glad she took pity on me and agreed to be my wife." Helm winked at Cearo as circled around each other. "I knew if I pestered her long enough she would agree just to make me stop."

Cearo laughed. "That, or dump a bucket of slops over your head. You are a lucky man, Helm Algarson, to marry such a fine woman and if you do not treat her like a queen and I hear about it, I will save Elfhild the task of smacking sense into you by doing it myself."

"I would love to watch you try, _Lig_. Your head just reaches my chin. What would you do, hit my chest and arms a lot?"

"Those and other, lower, areas." She gave a short shriek of surprise when he tickled her sides. "I'm going to tell Elfhild you were being mean to me when we danced! Tickling a woman without her permission! Horrible behavior! Didn't your mother teach you any manners?"

"And you are extremely bold, threatening bodily harm. Did _your_ mother teach you any manners?"

"She tried, but I was too busy planning ways to annoy my brothers to pay attention." Cearo smiled proudly. "Behaving yourself takes too much effort. It's much easier to do whatever you want and apologize afterward if you need to."

Helm tickled her sides again. "I cannot understand why my wife is friends with you. She's so well-behaved and quiet and acts like a proper woman should."

"Even a 'proper woman' wants some excitement in her life and an excuse to be bad sometimes, and I give her both. Don't forget I'm the one who convinced Elfhild it was okay if her brother wasn't always around when you and her met after supper. You should be glad I've been a bad influence on her."

"I never said I was not." He chuckled. "If only she had been more of an influence on you, my dear."

"Oh?" Cearo felt her hackles rise. There was a kind of patronization in Helm's voice that put her immediately on the defensive. "In what ways?" She hoped Helm was only joking, but she had a feeling that underneath the jocular tone he was serious. She exhaled slowly through her nose. She was finally having a good time and everything was settling down. Whatever he meant by his comment, she hoped it had nothing to do with what had happened earlier.

"My brothers are at each other's throats because of you, and Aelfrid is—"

"I know." She counted to ten in her head. Of course that's what he'd meant. What else could it be? "I heard all about how I'm being unreasonable from Ma and Elfhild and Dagmar and most of the women who were in the kitchen earlier, and I don't want to hear it from you, all right?"

"I am sorry. I did not want to upset you."

"After everything that's happened today, did you really think I wanted to hear about it again?" She gave him a look of mild distain. "I'm sure you mean well but I do not want to hear, yet again, about how I'm shirking my rightful duty as a woman to marry and have lots of babies and make sure there's a meal ready when my husband comes in from the fields after a hard day's work. I've never said I do not want to marry and have a family, only that I don't want to rush into it and I don't want to marry until I find a guy I love and can be happy with. Why people take that to mean I don't ever want to marry and have kids, I have no idea. It really irritates me."

"I only want you to be happy, Cearo. I don't want to see you end up alone."

'Think happy thoughts,' Cearo told herself silently. 'Think happy thoughts and remember that there will come a time when he will be glad for women who don't do what they're supposed to.' The best guess in the village was that this was 3017 T.A., which meant it would be another two years before a badly behaved woman and a defiant Hobbit would ensure victory at Pelennor Fields. Two more years of orc raids that could well destroy the livelihoods of her family and thousands of others across the Mark. If she hadn't known what was coming, she would have wondered if Bema had abandoned the Mark the same way he'd abandoned her. 'Him _and_ his sister, may they rot in the Void.'

The sensation of pain coming from her lower left leg brought Cearo out of her thoughts and she realized that Helm had just stepped—rather hard—on her foot. That's what happened when you stopped moving but your partner takes a step to the right.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. "Bad time to get lost in my thoughts."

Helm said nothing but she could tell he was trying not to laugh.

"I am not going to end up alone, Helm. I'll never be alone as long as I have friends and people who love me, and I am happy working with Ma and helping her and caring for Wilone. Truly."

"I'm glad." It was clear from his tone and expression that whatever he said, he didn't believe her.

Cearo clenched her teeth and smothered the urge to call him on his patronizing attitude. The song was ending, which meant she'd be dancing with Aelfrid in a minute or two and the last thing she wanted was to be stressed out and short-tempered before it even started.

_A/N: I apologize if parts of this chapter are weak. I'm beta-less at the moment and I wrote the last few pages when I was tired. If anyone is willing to beta for me, let me know._


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N: The drinking song Cearo quotes most of is, obviously, not mine. It's also not Fran Walsh's. It's from the chapter_ A Short Cut to Mushrooms _in FotR._

When the song ended, Helm told Cearo he had a promise to keep to a particularly demanding little girl who'd be very upset if he wasn't by her side very soon, leaving Cearo alone to try and spot Aelfrid. She was just starting to turn to look for Aelfrid when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Startled, she shrieked and moved out from under the hand, turning as she did so to see who was there.

It was Aelfrid. "What is it with you always sneaking up on me?" she snapped, her words harsh and angry. "Why can't you act like a decent person and approach me where I can see you?"

Aelfrid scowled. "I was going to say something when you turned around."

"It would've been nice if you'd done that _before_ putting a hand on my shoulder." She glowered, as much at herself for losing her temper as at Aelfrid. So much for keeping the peace. Cearo hoped the celebration would end soon. The stress of the day had made her nerves very raw and frayed and she wasn't sure how much longer she'd be able to keep it together.

"Sorry," Cearo forced herself to say. "I didn't mean to be so harsh." She wanted to say more, that she was worn down and drained and just wanted to crawl into a hole and get away from it all for a while, but she held her tongue, not wanting to risk giving Aelfrid any kind of opening or opportunity to bring up what had happened earlier. What had happened to the friend and confidante who'd helped her bury Dog when he died instead of snickering and telling her she was too attached to a "stupid animal", who hadn't laughed (much) at her first pathetic attempts to milk the cow and took the time to show her how to do it right? Whatever had happened to turn Aelfrid into the strange man who stood before her, she badly wanted him to change back to the person she'd come to know and love.

'Love?' she thought, startled. 'Where'd that come from?' A sinking feeling began to form in her gut as she considered that everyone else might be right after all. Of course, with everyone talking at her about how she loved Aelfrid and the blather had stuck in her mind to a degree and the only way she loved him was platonically. First chance she got the next day, she was going somewhere to be alone and think and sort through her confusion. From what she'd seen, the people in the village had a very different definition of 'love' than she did.

Aelfrid said nothing, and Cearo thought she saw the corners of his mouth twitch, as if he wanted to laugh but the beard and mustache he was growing made it hard to tell for sure. Already nervous and unsure, the possibility Aelfrid was silently laughing made her want to turn and walk—no, stalk away, and when Ma asked why she wasn't dancing Cearo would tell her Aelfrid was still being a pain. She'd been willing to try and make up with him but Aelfrid made it impossible, so what else was she supposed to do? Stay there and put up with it?

Finally, he spoke.

"Is the only reason you'll dance with me is because Ma told you to?" Petulant and defensive, it was clear Aelfrid was still upset.

'Stay. Calm,' Cearo silently told herself. 'Telling him off like he deserves will only make it worse.' Out loud, she said, "I could ask the same of you. You've been ignoring me, not the other way around."

"You know what I meant."

"If you'd asked, I would have." At the moment it was, but she doubted being honest would help the situation. "We've already stolen enough attention from Helm and Elfhild, and why wouldn't I want to dance with a friend?" She cracked a wry smile. "I never said I didn't want anything to do with you ever again, only that I didn't want to talk about—everything earlier. I'm sorry it sounded that way."

"Did Ma tell you to say that?"

"If she was going to demand someone apologize, it would be you for ignoring me and your childish tantrum because of what Baldric said. Because _you_ made a big deal out of Baldric's drunken ramblings, you've guaranteed people will be gossiping about us for weeks to come, not me." Cearo gave him a disgusted glare, turned on her heel, and walked away, chin high.

Rheda's relaxed smile immediately fell and her expression clouded over when she saw Cearo coming towards her.

"Why are you not dancing with Aelfrid?" Rheda snapped, biting off each word. "You are being—"

"_I_ was trying to be polite and smooth things over. _He_ is the one with the problem, acting surly and defensive when I apologized to him. He said, 'Did Ma tell you to say that?' after I apologized and wanted to know if the only reason I'm dancing with him is because you told me to. I told him I'd have danced with him if he'd asked and tried to explain what I meant earlier was that all I meant is I wanted to be alone right then, not that I never wanted anything to do with him again. That's when he asked me if you'd told me to say that." The angry words poured out as Cearo, scowling, sat down next to Rheda. "I said if you were going to ask anyone to apologize, it would be him to me for making a huge scene earlier and making sure everyone gossips about us for weeks to come, and now they're really going to be talking because he can't act like an adult." She looked over at Rheda. "I don't want today ruined for Helm and Elfhild any more than it already has been. I'm more than happy to grit my teeth and dance with Aelfrid or sit next to him, or whatever's needed, but not if he's going to act like a warg with a bellyache. I'd sooner spend time with Brego than Aelfrid. He, at least, is being polite and courteous, even if I do feel as if I should have my dagger handy in case he becomes…too friendly." Cearo grimaced. "I didn't want to make a scene or make things worse between Aelfrid and I. I did try to smooth things over."

Rheda's expression was inscrutable and she didn't say anything that would indicate if she was upset with Cearo, Aelfrid, or both of them. Cearo was about to ask Rheda if she was mad at her, but Rheda suddenly stood up and melted into the sea of blond heads and wool tunics to, Cearo assumed, find Aelfrid. Wishing once again the earth would open up beneath her and swallow her whole right now, she put her elbows on the table and rested her head on her hands, eyes closed.

After a minute or two, she decided to step outside for some fresh air and to clear her head as long as it had stopped raining. With a sigh, she stood up and threaded her way through the crowd toward the main door to see what the weather was.

The Valar must've decided to let something go right for her that day because the rain had stopped and it was possible to see the moon now and again in breaks between the clouds as they floated by high in the night sky.

Outside, she went a short distance away from the small crowd that had gathered around the tavern, preferring the company of horses to that of people, specifically the company of Sherwyn and Osric.

"What a day." She rested her head and shoulders against Osric's side. "You have no idea how much I'd love to untie you from the rail and let you gallop until you felt like slowing down." Idly, she braided part of the horse's charcoal black mane. "I wonder what your dad would say about your mane being braided. The way I'd do it, he'd probably have a fit because he'd see the braids as too girly and a threat to your masculinity." She snorted. "Men are stupid sometimes, Osric. They geld colts at two years but get upset about things like flowers and fancy braids. It's a little late to worry after you cut his balls off, know what I mean, Osric?" The horse whickered, as if in agreement. Cearo laughed under her breath. "Glad you agree. I've missed you."

"Am I the only one you will not talk to?"

Cearo spun around, startled by Aelfrid's voice.

"Clean out your ears; I've said plenty." She crossed her arms tightly over her chest and regarded him with annoyance. "It's not my fault if you haven't been listening."

"I heard you well enough earlier when you told me you didn't want anything to do with me ever again."

"I did _not_ say I didn't want anything to do with you ever again. I told you—because you had been pestering and harassing me despite my telling you to leave me alone and I didn't want to talk just then and then you kissed me with out warning—I didn't want anything to do with you _for the rest of the day_. To stay away from me for the rest of the day. I was mad and frustrated because you refused to leave me alone and kept demanding answers when _I don't have any_!" As she became more worked up, her arms had dropped and by the end, she was gesturing emphatically. "No one gives me any peace to figure out what I want. Everyone wants answers _right now_ and when I say I'm not sure, everyone acts like I've just said I'd rather marry a warg. All I want is to be left alone to think but you can't do that! You think if you harass me long enough I'll tell you what you want to hear. News flash: keep it up long enough and I'll be telling you what you _don't_ want to hear. Right now, I'm so upset and hurt by your acting like a complete ass I'd sooner spend my time with Brego. _He_ is acting like a man, not a little boy, and _he_ has been nothing but polite and respectful today. Speaking of Brego, I promised him a dance, so if you'll excuse me…" Cearo brushed past Aelfrid as she returned to the celebration. To her relief, Aelfrid made no attempt to grab her arm or stop her.

Scanning the room, Cearo spotted Brego at the bar with Kenric and Tellan and she made her way over to them.

"I think you three have had enough ale tonight," she chided the brothers, the younger two leaning heavily against the bar for support. "Stick to water or you'll be too drunk to stay on your horse going home."

"I will tie myself into the saddle." Brego, eyes dancing with amusement, raised his mug a bit in her direction, and then took a long swallow. "Ma's made them drink water and juice all night, and they came over here to try and talk me into getting ale for them."

"So did you?" Cearo asked dryly.

"Of course not. If I am going to die violently, it is going to be in battle, not at Ma's hand because I helped Kenric and Tellan get drunk. Do you have any idea how embarrassing that would be?"

She cracked a wry smile. "I can imagine. If—when they're too drunk to stand at the end of the night, I'll vouch for you to Ma if she starts threatening to kill you where you stand. I bet they asked you for ale so they'd have an excuse for being drunk. They already can't stand on their own." Cearo gave Kenric and Tellan knowing looks and winked at them. "It's incredibly easy to sneak up, empty a mug, and put it back without anyone noticing. I doubt anyone would notice. The mug's owner, whenever they came back, would assume they'd finished it and didn't remember, and go get more."

"We did not!" Tellan protested, his words slightly slurred.

"You do that, too?" Kenric sounded only slightly less drunk than Tellan.

"If you're still steady on your feet," Cearo told to Brego, ignoring Kenric's question, "I'm available for the dance I promised you."

A broad smile spread across Brego's face and he set his mug down.

"Steadier than those two." He gave his brothers a stern look. "I will whip you myself if you sneak more ale." He stared at them until they both looked away, and then turned to Cearo. "Your timing is perfect. Another song just started."

Cearo let him take her hand and lead her to a less-crowded spot near the musicians. As much as he seemed to have changed, she was still wary of him and suspicious it was just an act. If he truly was less of an ass now, why had Rheda had such strong objections to her dancing with him? Maybe she wanted to avoid giving Aelfrid any reason to cause another scene. That, Cearo acknowledged to herself wryly, seemed entirely likely. Hopefully, Aelfrid would do everyone a favor and find a corner to sulk in and would stay there the rest of the night and Brego would continue to act like a decent human being.

"You surprised me earlier," Brego remarked as the dance began.

"I did?"

"I did not think you would dance with me."

"I surprise myself sometimes," Cearo said sardonically. "You're far better company tonight than—others." It sounded lame, even to her ears, and whom was she fooling? Everyone already knew something had happened between her and Aelfrid so there was no point not using his name.

"He is used to having his way with you—" Brego's face turned deep red. "I mean, he is not used to you refusing to go along with what he wants."

"I know what you meant." Cearo was trying hard not to laugh. So he had some sense of decency after all. Would wonders never cease? "There's a first time for everything, but enough about that. Helm told me you nearly lost Walda to colic. How is he doing?"

In Rohan, men loved their horses as much as men back home loved their cars, and Rohirric men would wax poetic and talk your ear off about their one true love for as long as you would let them. Back home, whenever her dad had some free time he'd go out into the garage with some of his friends, pop the hood on the speedster he was restoring, and spend hours standing around staring at the engine and talking about spark plugs, shocks, and carburetors. If horses had the equivalent of a hood, Cearo was sure she'd see men gathered around a friend's horse, its hood open and the inner workings revealed for all to see. The mental picture that gave her made her laugh, and she wondered what kinds of things the men would talk about 'souping up' or replacing with newer, better parts. As it was, they talked about breeding Acwel's stallion to one of Ramm's mares in hopes of producing a colt with the mare's long legs and the stallion's endurance and strength. Some things, she'd decided, never really changed. Horses weren't as hard to understand as cars, though.

Asking about Walda guaranteed Brego would spend most, if not all, the dance talking about his horse, sparing Cearo from having to make polite conversation and ensuring he wouldn't have an opportunity to press his own suit. She really did want to know how Walda was doing so she didn't have to fake being interest in what he was saying until he started to go into why horses fed hay from the meadow east of the house were more likely to get colic than if they were fed hay from the southern meadow, and how to decrease the risk of colic if you had to feed hay from the eastern meadow.

Dry, boring facts like that inevitably confused her and her real family had teased her about that, saying she was naturally blonde and her red hair was just a wig or hair dye, or how she must be adopted because no one else had trouble keeping things straight in their minds. When she'd realized she was stuck in Rohan permanently, a part of her had been relieved she'd never have to go to school again or try to memorize lists of names and dates that meant nothing to her beyond passing a test next week. Here, no one treated her like she was stupid. Here, they valued being able to tell a good story and having a green thumb and being able to weave cloth that fetched a good price in Edoras each year. If it hadn't been for the total lack of sanitation and hygiene and health care and household appliances and grocery stores and, now, the incessant pressure to marry Aelfrid, Rohan would've been perfect.

"You are not listening, are you?"

"Huh?" Cearo, embarrassed to have zoned out, hoped Brego had only just noticed her mind was somewhere else. "Sorry." She smiled sheepishly. "Everything about hay from the east meadow versus the south meadow was kind of confusing and I was trying to make it all make some sense."

"You should have said so, and I would have stopped."

Cearo's right foot caught on an uneven floorboard, causing her to stumble forward into Brego and knock him back a step or two.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to attack you like that," she joked as she regained her footing. "The floor decided to trip me."

"Maybe it's tired of being danced on by so many feet and wants everyone to leave."

"I'm the wrong one to trip, then. The only way I could make people leave is yell 'Fire!', but when people realized there wasn't any danger I'd probably be chased out of the village so the floor should go lodge its complaints with Helm or someone who can do something." They both laughed, and it escaped Cearo's notice Brego was holding her closer than he had been before she tripped.

Back at the bar after dancing, Cearo and Brego found Kenric and Tellan each holding a full mug of ale.

"They're not ours," Kenric said before Brego could start yelling at his brothers. "You can ask Brecca. They're yours. He refilled yours, brother—" Tellan pushed the mug he was holding toward Brego, ale slopping over the rim "—and this one—" he extended the mug he was holding toward Cearo "—is for the woman many men adore."

"What?" Cearo's voice was shrill as she grabbed at the bar for support, suddenly lightheaded. "What are you talking about?"

"Brecca and me," Kenric explained, his smile faltering. "He's decided to leave Dagmar and he says to tell you he'll ask Pa for permission to court you after you're twenty, just like he said earlier. I told him not to waste his time because why would you choose him when you could have me?" Kenric grinned and struck what was supposed to be a heroic pose but he was unsteady on his feet and ended up looking more like one of the fools that entertained the crowds at Edoras.

It was all a joke. The relief that flooded through her was so intense she almost started crying. Brecca and Kenric were taking the mickey. She should've expected that from Kenric.

"I want a man, not a boy, so you're out of luck." Laughter and catcalls erupted. "Ask again when you can grow a beard. Brecca has a beard _and_ Dagmar already trained him to know his place, which saves me a lot of time and hassle. Sorry, dear." Cearo lightly patted Kenric's cheek. "Some things aren't meant to be."

"I am not that easily discouraged." Kenric grabbed Cearo's mug from her and raised it high. "With Bema as my witness, I vow I will not rest until you are mine!" The heartfelt declaration earned him a chorus of encouragements and laughter.

"Give me the mug back and I might drop the beard requirement." She put her hands on her hips and gave him a Look.

"I am making progress already!" Kenric said brightly. "Bema is on my side!"

"Bema's too busy with his own affairs to notice a lovesick boy," Cearo chided as she lightly swatted Kenric upside the head. "You confuse progress with being told what you wanted to hear so you'd give me the mug back. If you were a few years older, though…you'd have a chance. I love a guy who can make me laugh."

Kenric clasped his hands to his heart. "Did you hear that? She said she loves me! My life is complete!"

"And your head is empty!" someone called. "Don't give up all hope, boy! That one is determined not to marry. You may be the only one who'll have her in the end!"

"You are very wrong," Brego muttered.

His words washed over Cearo like a flood of ice water and she gripped the mug tightly between her hands for a moment before setting it down on the bar.

"I need to find Ma," she told Kenric and Tellan before turning and pushing into the crush.

Dagmar, not Rheda, was at the table with Wilone.

"I told her and Algar to go dance and have fun," Dagmar explained when Cearo asked where Rheda was. "Is something wrong?"

"What isn't?" Cearo said sardonically as she sat down next to Dagmar. "Just Brego saying something under his breath that made me uneasy. Nothing terrible," she added quickly. "Compared to everything else today, it's nothing. Kenric was acting like a clown, pretending he's totally in love with me and how hopeful my saying if he were five years older he'd stand a chance made him feel. Someone decided to be a wit and told Kenric he may be the only one who'll want to marry me. Brego muttered something about how they were wrong, and I decided it was a good time to leave. Like I said, nothing compared to everything else today. Oh, Kenric says Brecca has decided to leave you and is going to ask Pa for permission to court me when I turn twenty in a few days."

Dagmar nodded, chuckling. "I was wondering when he would decide to put me aside for a younger, prettier woman."

"Don't feel bad. I'll let him visit you on occasion, if you'd like." Cearo patted the older woman's shoulder sympathetically. "Would you mind teaching me the right way to beat him with a broom?"

"Come by tomorrow morning. In the afternoon you can help me find a new husband. Ardith's oldest boy is not yet married and he has the most striking eyes. I think we would make a handsome couple."

"A very handsome couple," Cearo said with a laugh. "Why do you want me to help you find a new husband if you already have him picked out?"

"If I am with you, I am obviously not bothered, now am I?" She winked at Cearo. "Why should he have all the fun? If my lout of a husband wants to replace me with a woman who has firmer breasts and all her teeth, I will replace him with a man who has all his teeth and a gut that does not threaten to spill over the top of his trousers."

"And the theign's servants think the village is dull and boring." Both women laughed.

While Cearo and Dagmar were talking, Wilone had wiggled free of Dagmar's arms and moved onto Cearo's lap, where she made herself comfortable and went to sleep.

"She's going to be devastated when you leave." Dagmar nodded at Wilone, who had started to drool in her sleep on Cearo's overdress. "It wouldn't surprise me if she ended up living with you and Aelfrid—whoever you marry," she amended quickly.

"Not you, too." Cearo sighed, annoyed and frustrated. "I swear, everyone is determined to see me marry Aelfrid and plans to pester me until I agree just so you'll leave me alone, if you all don't drive me insane first." She tried to gently close Wilone's mouth, but every time Cearo moved the girl's jaw, it immediately went slack again as soon as Cearo moved her hand away. Finally, she gave it up as a lost cause. There was infinitely worse things she'd had to wash out of her overdress in the past and toddler drool would be the least of her laundry problems the next time she washed her clothes.

"You two are in love and do not tell me I am wrong. You do not live to forty without learning about love, and I know what I see." She smoothed loose hair out of Cearo's face. "When I was your age, I did not want to marry, either. I was satisfied working in the garden and making things grow, and saw no reason anything should change."

"I never said I don't want to marry. I said I do not see any reason to be in a hurry to marry as soon as possible. I _do_ want to marry and be a mother, and I'll do that when the time is right." Cearo held Wilone closer and silently fumed about how everyone thought not going nuts about marrying the first guy to come along meant she never wanted to marry at all, ever. What would it take for people to understand, screaming at them while she beat them with a stick?

Dagmar acted as if she hadn't heard Cearo. "Papa wanted me to marry the fourth son of a man who lived in the village to the east and was furious when I refused." An amused expression floated across her face and she smiled wryly for a moment. "Everyone was talking about how stubborn and ungrateful and stupid I was, but the boy—man my father wanted me to marry was rude to his mother, always snapping at her about things she did that annoyed him and making demands and expecting her to obey immediately. He was short-tempered with the horses, too. I decided I would rather risk remaining unmarried and alone than risk how that man would treat me if we married. It would also be less of a scandal to not marry him than if we married and I divorced him. Mama tried to convince me to change my mind, but I had made up my mind and nothing was going to change it. Like you."

"When did you meet Brecca and how did he change your mind about spending the rest of your life in the garden?" Cearo bit back the urge to correct Dagmar about her not wanting to marry, knowing it would be a waste of breath. The only thing she'd dug her heels in on was not rushing into something she wasn't sure about. That everyone else took that as an outright refusal wasn't her fault. Besides, it was fun to hear Dagmar talk about how she'd been a rebel and refused to do what other people wanted her to do. It was hard to imagine her as someone like that; someone who had taken chances and not always followed the rules and stood up to her parents. Cearo wondered what Rheda had been like when she was younger. Had she been cool, too?

Dagmar thought for a moment, smiling softly.

"It was two years later. My parents sent me to live here, with my mother-sister, Orva, and her husband, Wurt, because of all the talk. They hoped if people did not see me they would forget what happened and all the talk would stop. They lived just outside the village to the west and because the farm was close it was easy for Wurt to meet friends at the tavern for ale and talk about crops and horses."

"Among other things." Cearo traded knowing smiles with Dagmar. She didn't know specifically what, exactly, the men talked about but she had a good idea. Whatever the topic, there would be lots of boasting and exaggeration. Pissing contests, her real dad had called them. There were lots of those, he'd said, in the Army and when he'd been deployed to the Persian Gulf in 1990 as a medic, there had been lots of pissing contests about how far and accurately soldiers could shoot and how small a target they were capable of hitting. Some of the boasting her dad had told her about was ridiculous. Being able to hit the longest hair on a camel's tail from half a mile away? The more tired and drunk the soldiers were, the funnier the pissing contests were. Cearo's mom had been furious with her dad for teaching Cearo 'pissing contests', but that's what dads were for, to teach you dirty words and other things that would make your mom freak if she ever found out.

"So is that how you met Brecca? He and Wurt were friends and he came to the farm?"

"No." Dagmar shook her head slightly, a smile teasing at the corners of her mouth. "Regularly, my mother-sister had me to go to the tavern and make sure Wurt left while he was still able to walk mostly straight." Her smiled widened. "I wasn't always successful. Brecca helped his father run the tavern then and the nights Wurt could not make it home—and he wasn't the only one—Brecca and his father made sure he didn't end up sleeping in whatever ditch he managed to stumble into walking home."

"Ho! Ho! Ho! To the bottle I go," Cearo quipped blithely. "Rain may fall and wind my blow and many miles be still to go, but under a tall tree I will lie and let the clouds go sailing by."

Dagmar laughed. "I like that. You have a gift with words."

"Oh, I didn't make that up." Cearo felt herself blushing. "A…storyteller where I come from did, and many others. He was very good at it. How long did Brecca and his father move your uncle before Brecca asked if you wanted to help him move drunks with him for the rest of your life?"

"Two months. After Brecca and his father moved Wurt, Brecca would walk me home and we would talk. Wurt always loved to have 'one more, Dagmar, dear. Just one more'. He always made me swear I would not tell my mother-sister so he wouldn't get in trouble." She laughed. "It was an easy promise to make because I rarely had to keep anything from my mother-sister because Wurt did not make it home most of those nights, and when my mother-sister woke the next morning and he was not with her she knew he'd had 'just one more'. He always arrived back home not long after dawn and she always yelled at him. When he died, I was surprised when she told me what she missed most was yelling at him for coming in at dawn. Truly; that is what she told me. She hated it because, she explained, she woke up alone each morning and knew he was gone forever, not just delayed because he'd been too drunk to make it home the night before."

"She must have loved him very much. How lucky you married for love, too." How incredibly touching and romantic and sweet! Cearo willed herself not to start crying.

"They were not in love, Cearo. It was never love. They eventually became good friends and enjoyed each other's company, but they were never in love, and I was not in love with Brecca when we married. He was someone I knew I would have a good life with and he would treat me well. My parents came and met him and approved of him and we married the next month."

"What about now? Do you love him now?" Was she the only one who cared if she loved her husband? She'd thought Helm and Elfhild were in love and that's why they'd married, but now she wondered. Was she the only female in the village over the age of ten whom thought love was important and didn't think it was foolish not to marry a man you didn't love? 'They're all channeling Charlotte Lucas,' Cearo thought sardonically. If the other women wanted to settle for a Mr. Collins and end up unhappy and unsatisfied, they were welcome to it. She was going to hold out for her Mr. Darcy (or Mr. Bingley or Colonel Fitzwilliam; she wasn't picky). In the end, everyone who had pestered and pressured her would have to eat their words and admit she'd been right not to settle for the first man to come along.

"I married one of the few truly wonderful men to ever walk Middle Earth and I doubt any woman could ever be happier or more content than I have."

"So you love him." Statement, not a question.

"What does it matter?" Dagmar shrugged. "I have had a very good life. My husband is a good man who is well respected, we have never faced starvation, and I have seen several of my children married and start families of their own and my youngest is soon to be married. I have never been romantic, child. I have never had any reason not to be happy and content, and that is enough."

Cearo wondered if it mattered to Dagmar that Brecca adored her and practically worshipped the ground she walked on. Did she know how good she had it; how many women would have traded places with her in a heartbeat? The questions were heavy on the tip of her tongue but she kept the thoughts to herself. Dagmar was right. Cearo was the only one who cared about love and romance, so who cared if Dagmar loved Brecca or not? She was clearly fond of her husband and appreciated him and their life together.

"You're right; it doesn't," Cearo admitted. Changing the subject, she said, "Brego's actually been tolerable tonight. It's like he and Aelfrid switched personalities. I danced with him a little while ago and had a lot of fun and I'd dance with him again if he asked."

Dagmar raised an eyebrow. "Would that be wise?"

"Why not? What's the problem with dancing with any of—my cousins more than once—other than Aelfrid? I've danced with Kenric several times and he said he wants to marry me and everyone thinks we're just two cousins having a good time."

"Brego is not Kenric. Brego is a man who wants to court you. iThat/i is the problem."

"Oh. Yeah." Cearo scowled at no one in particular. "It's so stupid he would think it meant anything if I danced with him again when I've danced more than once with several men tonight, some of them unmarried."

Dagmar chuckled. "What would you think, child, if someone who has always tried to keep their distance was suddenly did not mind spending time with you?"

"You mean like Brego has tonight? I'd wonder if he was putting on an act to try and make me think he'd changed so I would agree to let him court me. Real or not, if he has any hopes I'll change my mind by my birthday, he's going to be very disappointed."

"For everyone's sake, I hope he is sincere."

"So do I." Cearo sighed and looked down at Wilone. "She's not the only one who'll be devastated if we're not together. Rheda may have to deal with both of us having a fit unless Wilone moves with me." She lightly kissed the top of Wilone's head. "I'm open to sharing custody if Rheda is."

"What do you mean, 'sharing custody'? What is that?"

Cearo shook her head slightly. "Just something from where I grew up. It means I am willing to agree that Wilone will live with me some of the time and Rheda some of the time. I was only joking," she added quickly when she saw Dagmar's expression. "Wilone and I will have to adjust to only seeing each other on visits, as hard as that will be." When Cearo had gone to Elfhild's, it had been nice for a few days not to have Wilone always right there, hanging onto her skirts or following after her or wanting to be picked up, but she soon felt like she was missing something important and wouldn't be entirely whole again until Wilone was back hanging onto her skirt and chattering away. Trying to convince Rheda to let Wilone live with her when she married had crossed her mind more than once, but she'd pushed it away. Wilone was Rheda's only surviving daughter and it would be incredibly selfish to expect Rheda to let Wilone go because it would make Cearo feel better. Borrowing her for a few days now and again, though…that was something else entirely.

Between the effects of the cider and the long day, Cearo was entirely content to sit at the table, holding Wilone, until it was time to go home. What she really wanted to do was find somewhere to curl up and sleep until it was time to leave and have someone carry her home, but that wasn't likely to happen.

"You have no idea how good you have it," she said quietly to the little girl. "Right now, I'd love to fall asleep on someone and have them carry me home, but people expect you to stay awake and they make you walk home when you're grown up. Being a kid is way more fun than being an adult so don't believe anyone who says it isn't." She smiled wryly at the mental picture of someone carrying her limp, sleeping form to their horse and shifting her to the horse so she was draped over its neck before mounting and riding away, her arms swinging and body bouncing as the horse walked.

Dagmar nudged her. "What are you laughing at?"

"Nothing. Just wishing I could do like Wilone and fall asleep and have someone carry me home. I was picturing someone draping me, while I was asleep, over their horse's neck and how I'd bounce and flop as the horse walked." She smiled sanguinely. "I think I'd rather be awake for the ride home. Would you mind holding Wilone for a bit? I'm going to try and sweet talk Kenric into letting me ride home with him tonight. Maybe I'll promise to marry him if he lets me."

"Tease," Dagmar chided as Cearo carefully shifted the sleeping child into her arms.

"You do what you need to." Cearo gave a wink and a smile, stood up, and—

Sat back down quickly when she saw Aelfrid coming toward her and Dagmar.

"Oh, lovely," Cearo groaned under her breath. "Now what?"

Dagmar glanced in the direction Cearo was looking. "You don't know what he wants, so stop thinking the worst."

"Considering how rude he was the last two times I had to talk to him…"

"Maybe he is coming to apologize."

"And maybe pigs—No offense, but I'll believe that when it happens. He's been an argumentative ass all night and I doubt things have changed."

"More amazing things have happened, child." Dagmar gave Cearo's arm a quick squeeze. "Stop looking like you'd gut him as soon as look at him—even if that is how you feel."

"Him first." She took a deep breath and tried to relax her expression, forcing herself to think about how it must be in the house now that Wilone had brought in Morwen and all her kittens instead of how she wanted to get Aelfrid up on the roof of the barn and push him down into the manure pile. Actually, maybe thinking about that wasn't such a bad idea. Imagining him covered in manure, face smeared with shit, as the flies swarmed around his head had brought a huge smile to her face.

"Gives new meaning to 'shithead'," she murmured sarcastically. Suddenly, she was almost interested in hearing what he had to say.


	17. Chapter 17

Gurda, Cearo's best friend, elbowed Olva sharply.

"Look. To the left," she said tersely, suppressing a grin until Aelfrid had passed the two young women. "My father gets that look when he's first breaking horses to saddle. I am not sure if Aelfrid is very determined or a total fool."

"He is a very determined fool," Olva declared, smirking. "I tried to tell him he should leave her alone until she calms down, but...." She rolled her eyes.

Gurda nodded. "He thinks he knows her better than we do because they spend so much time together." Both women laughed. "If he were having a problem with his short sword in battle he would not ignore advice from one more experienced than him." She shrugged. "This foolishness will not cost him his life but he may well end up bleeding and bruised."

"He will end up at a disadvantage regardless of how much blood is spilled. Maybe after he, understanding Cearo _so_ much better than we do—" the women laughed again "—has made things worse he will realize he should have listened."

"We can hope. Come. Let us get closer." Gurda took Orva's arm and pulled her friend with her through the crush.

As they made their way over to Cearo, they noticed Aelfrid had been stopped by some of his friends. Orva silently gave thanks to Bema they would be able to reach her before he did.

When Orva saw the expression on Cearo's face, she stopped dead and tugged on Gurda's sleeve. Cearo was smiling, but not in a good way. Orva knew she only smiled like that when someone had seriously upset her and she was picturing them in uncomfortable, embarrassing, or painful situations.

"Look at her," Orva told Gurda. "We have to do something."

"Oh, Bema save us all," Gurda said with a sigh. "Did he say anything about why he's so determined to talk to her?"

Orva nodded. "Cearo told him outside earlier she had promised Brego a dance and that she preferred Brego's company tonight and he is convinced she prefers Brego now. I told him it would take more than one day of Brego not being himself to change her mind and he really should wait to talk to her until tomorrow when she had calmed down, and he said all the horses in the Mark would vanish before he did nothing to stop his brother from stealing her."

"He truly thinks—foolish man! Foolish and drunk." Gurda looked over at Orva. "We need to do something before those two make another scene and completely ruin this for Helm and Elfhild. Do you think if we talked to her she might calm down enough to at least listen to him? We can grab her and hold her down if she starts to move to attack him."

"If you want to try and change her mind about Aelfrid, you're on your own."

"Do you really think I am that stupid? Convincing her to let him court her and that she loves him is for another day. I just want to calm her down and try to keep things from becoming worse."

"Hopefully he will be with his friends long enough for this to work."

Cearo's smile of sick pleasure wavered when Gurda and Orva suddenly sat down next to her.

"I told him to leave you alone," Orva said in a rush. "We—Gurda and me—think he is a complete fool, but he is drunk and refuses to listen."

"Don't forget hardheaded and drunk enough to think I find insults and fighting attractive," Cearo said sarcastically, tone clipped.

"He is jealous. Of Brego. Yes, truly," Orva said when Cearo looked, surprised. "He said all the horses will vanish from the Mark before he will let Brego steal you from him." Orva sounded amused. "I told him it would take more than one night for you to change your mind about Brego."

"A _lot_ more than one night." Cearo scanned the crowd, her expression becoming stony and eyes narrowing when she saw Aelfrid with his friends. "It's not the way Brego's acting he should be worried about; it's his own behavior." She turned and looked at her friends, her smile cold and brittle. "He'll be completely hungover and surlier than a warg tomorrow, so if he's not back to himself two days from now, he can add getting back into my good graces to his list of what he has to do before I'll agree to let him court me."

"You are going to avoid him?" Orva asked.

"I won't be going out of my way to spend time with him. Why would I want to spend time with someone who's being petulant, insulting, and rude?" Cearo balled the material of her overdress in her fists tightly and stared blindly ahead, biting the inside of her lip to keep from crying. "I wish none of this had happened. I wish I could go back and not run out of here, and maybe then things wouldn't go to shit like they have."

Gurda put an arm around Cearo's shoulders and gave her a squeeze. "At best, that would only delay the inevitable. Aelfrid still would have said something and you would have run off somewhere, Aelfrid would still get totally drunk because you didn't declare your undying love for him like he thought you would—" she struck a pose that set Orva and Cearo off in gales of laughter "—you would still be irritated because people would still tell you to stop being foolish when they heard what had happened, and Aelfrid would still ignore Orva's advice to leave you alone because—" she deepened her voice "—all the horses in the Mark would vanish before I will do nothing and let Brego steal her away!"

Gurda's over-the-top impersonation of Aelfrid set the other two off laughing again.

"I do not think Aelfrid is the only one who has had too much ale tonight," Dagmar observed dryly.

"I haven't had any ale," Cearo said. "Just cider, and I'm fine. Gurda was just being really funny."

"Ale, cider, whatever." Dagmar waived a hand dismissively. "Be careful or all of you will have trouble walking home tonight."

"So says the tavern keeper's wife," Gurda said in a low voice. "No more cider for us!" All three girls giggled. "I didn't think I was that good."

"You were not angry enough," Orva remarked. "He seemed furious any man would not realize you were already spoken for and try to take away what Aelfrid considers his. That it's one of his brothers…I would be angry, too, if one of my brothers—I mean, sisters tried to take the man I loved away from me, too."

"What am I, a horse?" Cearo groused. "I can't believe he actually assumed because we were friends he had some kind of claim to me, and he decided my future for me and thought I'd just go along with that? I can't believe him! It's _my_ life and _my_ decision, not his! Algar is the only man who has control over my life right now and even he can't decide for me who or when I'll marry." She snorted. "I hope…ten other men come asking to court me, and that the theign's son is one of them. His eldest son." She smiled broadly. "I definitely don't feel bad now for making him sweat and worry."

"He thought that would be his father, not you." Orva giggled.

"He's not the only one, though, who assumed it was a foregone conclusion I'd agree to his courting me and we'd marry before the summer was over." Cearo gave both her friends irritated looks. "Everyone had my life planned out for me and now everyone is upset because I'm not meekly and quietly going along with that." She sighed deeply. "Elfhild told me I could come live with her and Helm—not immediately, of course—if I'd agree to at least consider Aelfrid. I'll get no peace from anyone until I do, so you two—" Her friends shrieked with excitement and glee, cutting her off. "You can stop acting like fools anytime now," she muttered under her breath.

"I knew you would come around! I knew you would see we were right!" Gurda grabbed Cearo in a tight hug.

"I didn't say that," Cearo snapped. "I never said I'd consider anything, nevermind having 'come around' or realized you were right, or anything like that. I'm not going to consider anything other than how to avoid Aelfrid until he's acting like himself again. After that, we'll see. The more people harass me about how the world will end horribly if I don't let Aelfrid court me, the more likely I am to let that happen, and I'm telling everyone else that, too. If that's not good enough for you, tough." She stuck her tongue out at her friends.

"Eww! Aelfrid is not the only one acting like a child." Orva grabbed the tip of Cearo's tongue and gave it a gentle tug.

"He must have heard his name. He is coming this way." Gurda smiled slyly. "If he acts like too much of an ass, Orva and I will drag him outside and dump him in the watering trough."

"No, the pigs' slops trough!" Cearo said, pleased by the thought.

"That is so disgusting—and perfect!" Gurda laughed. "Does that mean you've decided not to thrash him?"

Cearo answered after a moment. "Not as much as I did before. I may want to again, though." Her expression of wry amusement briefly lingered, replaced by one of thinly veiled annoyance as Aelfrid walked up.

"If it's about how I'm being unfair and mean and the villain in all this, you're wasting your time," she said coldly before he had a chance to speak. "I heard you earlier just fine."

"I am sorry. Dance with me. Please," he blurted.

"Dance with you?" That wasn't what he was supposed to say. He was supposed to scowl and make some scathing retort or sharp remark, not apologize and ask her to dance "please". Taken completely off guard, Cearo had no idea what else to say.

Aelfrid nodded. "If you want to."

'Who are you and what have you done with Aelfrid?' she wondered, confused by the sudden change in him. He became more belligerent, not less, the more he drank and there was no way he'd suddenly become sober, and there weren't any bruises or cuts that she could see, so no one had thrashed some manners into him. What in the name of Arda had happened with him?

"Are you asking because you want to, or because Ma told you to?" she asked, certain Rheda, and possibly Algar, had put him up to it.

"Cearo, what are you doing?" Orva hissed in her ear. "I thought you did not want to fight!"

"I don't," Cearo replied in a low voice, eyes never leaving Aelfrid's face. "Can _you_ think of any other reason he'd suddenly act like this?"

"Why does it matter? Dance with him! You know you want to."

"Enough, _Mother_." She gave Orva's hand a pinch.

"I want to." Aelfrid shifted his weight. "Will you? Dance with me, I mean."

Cearo stared at him for a long moment, saying nothing. Of course she'd dance with him; only a total fool would've refused, but she couldn't shake the feeling the sudden lack of hostility was as much a façade as Brego being reasonable and undemanding. For now, it didn't matter. If he was sincere, she'd actually gotten an apology she hadn't expected and Dagmar would be entirely justified in gloating about being right. If he wasn't—she wasn't going to think about that. Unless she found out otherwise, she was going to trust he'd come to his senses.

"Yes, as long as you promise not to step on my feet too much," she said with a wry smile as she stood. "They've been trampled enough."

"You will?" His guarded expression gave way to one of unfeigned pleasure, erasing any doubts he might not have been sincere. Gurda and Orva, still sitting, looked at each other with knowing, satisfied smiles.

"As long as you're careful not to mash my toes." Hopefully whatever had improved his attitude had also made him steadier on his feet, but even if he wasn't, who cared? Aelfrid was himself again. What were a few mashed toes compared to having him back?

He stared at her for a moment, grinning foolishly, before realizing they were just standing there. Turning red, he muttered an apology and offered Cearo his arm.

As she left with Aelfrid, Cearo glanced back over her shoulder at her friends, both of whom were wearing huge grins, and gave them a look as if to say "I know what you're thinking and you're wrong, so stop". She and Aelfrid were making up after a fight, nothing more. They wouldn't have giggled and traded significant glances if she and Kenric had argued and she went off with Kenric after Kenric apologized. After everything they'd been saying for years about how she thought too much of love and needed to be practical, it was ironic they were the ones hung up on love and romance and she was the one being practical.

Cearo was chiding Aelfrid about being a weakling, saying he needed to go sit down after only two dances, when the musicians played a long chord to get everyone's attention and Algar moved to stand on top of one of the tables. When the din of laughter and voices and drunken singing died down, he spoke.

"Thank you, everyone, for coming and celebrating the marriage of Helm and Elfhild." He tried to continue speaking, but was drowned out by cheers and shouts, so he waited until it was quieter again before continuing. "While they do not need to rise early tomorrow, everyone else here does so I must, unfortunately, tell you all that the next dance will be the last. After that, if you do not leave on your own, Brecca's and my sons will be happy to drag you outside and leave you lying in a puddle."

As he stepped down from the table, the musicians began playing again. Cearo opened her mouth to tease Aelfrid about how she hoped he could dance one more time with her without falling down when he grabbed her hands and pulled her into the circle of dancers.

The song was a fast one, leaving Cearo breathing heavily and holding onto Aelfrid to stay on her feet by the time the song ended.

"Who is a weakling now?" he teased as they made their way over to rest of the family.

"_I_ am not the one who complained about being tired and needing to rest. We were dancing so fast, I had to hold onto something or I'd have fallen down. I feel like I could dance for hours." 'I could dance all night,' she thought blithely. 'Just like the song.' Smiling, she began to hum the tune under her breath.

"Is that a song from…your home?" Aelfrid asked tentatively.

Cearo nodded. "Mom would—sing it all the time. It was one of her favorites." When she was in elementary school, her mom wasn't always busy doing whatever lawyer stuff she'd been doing when Cearo left and it wasn't uncommon when her mom was home to hear the sounds of Rex Harrison and Julie Andrews coming from the family room whenever her mom was home.

"It's better than being hooked on drugs or alcohol," her mom would say any time someone told her she watched _My Fair Lady_ too much. "Besides, if you don't want to hear it, there are other places in the house you can go." Cearo usually joined her mom when she wanted to try and avoid doing homework and chores but it rarely worked. Almost every single time, when the credits began to roll, her mom would say, "The homework isn't going to do itself" or "Your chores aren't going to finish themselves" and tell her to go get to work because she wasn't eating dinner until it was done. She'd always been surprised her mom knew and wondered if her mom could read her mind and knew all her secrets, like that Elladan wasn't the one who kept leaving his bike outside or Luthien had tubes of colored lip gloss hidden in the bottom of the front pocket on her backpack and she put it on at school so her mom wouldn't know.

"It sounds nice," Aelfrid said. "Not as strange as the one you taught me and Haleth."

"There are a lot of songs that aren't as strange as the one I taught you and Haleth," she said with a laugh. "Even where I'm from, it's considered kind of weird." Much to Cearo's amusement, Aelfrid looked relieved by the information. "You could have told me you didn't like it. I wouldn't have been offended."

"I did not say I did not like it. It was just very…different than our songs. Here in Rohan, I mean."

"I know what you meant." She patted his arm. "Tomorrow is going to be difficult, with as much as everyone's been drinking. I have a feeling no one in the village will get much done."

Helm and Elfhild left soon after to a chorus of bawdy advice and suggestions, and once all the guests were gone the families left as well.

Cearo hadn't even taken four steps toward the door before Brego was beside her. Irritated, she ground her teeth slightly and moved quickly toward Kenric and Aelfrid. After what he'd pulled earlier during their second—and last—dance, he was the last person she wanted anything to do with and had the balls of an oliphant if he thought she'd welcome his company.

"Don't mind me," she said breezily as she pushed her way in between the brothers. "Just finding more enjoyable company."

"What—oh." Kenric glanced back in the direction she'd come from. "What happened? You were laughing with him earlier."

"Leopards don't change their spots. Orcs don't become sweet and gentle," she amended when Kenric looked confused. "The second time we danced, he was more like how he usually is, arrogant and rude." She scowled and rolled her eyes slightly. "Guess I was right about him being decent just being an act. He's such an—ow! What was that for? Why'd you pinch my arm?" She gave Kenric a hard look.

She got her answer a moment later when Brego insinuated himself between her and Aelfrid.

"What did my brother say to you that you forgave him?" Brego asked jovially. "The other men in the village are very upset because now Aelfrid will keep you all to himself again." He dropped an arm around Cearo's shoulders and pulled her against his side. "Do not let him keep you all to himself, Ce'ro. He is not the only man who wants to enjoy you and you should ride home with me so another man can." He belched loudly. "That's better."

"Let go of me," Cearo snapped loudly, pushing at Brego's arm to dislodge it from her shoulder. "I know who I want to ride home with and it's not you!" Successfully pushing his arm off her shoulders, she moved quickly to put Kenric between them. "I'd rather ride with…an orc! A big, hairy, smelly, nasty orc that drools and slobbers all the time!"

"She is mad at you!" Gram, one of Elfhild's brothers, shouted to Brego as he mounted his horse. "You need lessons from Aelfrid on how to charm her!" Elfhild's family laughed.

Cearo groaned and leaned against Kenric, who stumbled slightly under the sudden weight.

"I want to ride with you," she whinged with a sigh. "No one cares what I do with you."

"People—certain people care more than you think, and that is why I refuse to let you ride with me."

"What?" Cearo squawked indignantly, straightening up. "What do you mean, you refuse to let me ride with you? Why?"

"Because you asked me right after saying you'd rather ride with a smelly, drooling orc," he teased, laughing when Cearo smacked his arm hard.

"You stink as bad as an orc," she retorted as they reached the hitching posts. "Stop being an idiot and let me ride with you."

"Not tonight. Ride with Aelfrid," Kenric told her as he walked past her to untie Aldor's reins from the post.

"And what if I don't want to?"

Kenric stopped what he was doing and turned to face her.

"Ride with Brego, then. Stop," he said, cutting her off when she started to speak. "I do not want to deal with whoever is worse than a warg tomorrow because you would not ride with them. They can take it out on you, not the rest of us like they have the past month."

"It's not my fault if they act like idiots!" Cearo protested. "I haven't even been there!"

"That is why they have been impossible to live with and no one else is to blame for them being horses asses but we have had to endure them anyway. Move unless you want Aldor to trample you." He mounted his horse and, after Cearo moved to the side, trotted off.

"Horse balls," she muttered under her breath, sticking her tongue out in the direction he had ridden off in. Being the brunt of hangover-fueled anger was exactly what she'd wanted to avoid by riding with Kenric. She hoped Kenric's hangover tomorrow was particularly intense and agonizing.

"No luck finding an orc?" Brego, about a dozen feet away, asked with a laugh. "I promise not to slobber and drool on you."

"Do you also promise not to let your hands 'accidentally' wander like they did the second time we danced? I did not have a problem tonight with other men holding me too close or too tightly or not realizing where their had ended up." She started toward where Aelfrid was standing with Osric.

"I did not do that!" Brego protested hotly. "I _would_ not do that!"

"Do not treat me like I am too stupid to know where someone is touching me! Maybe your woman near the Gap is but I'm not. I didn't say anything then because I didn't want to risk causing another scene or more trouble. I'm also not stupid enough that acting like you're suddenly polite and care about someone other than yourself and getting what you want for a few hours will totally convince me you're a changed man and I should give you a chance. The only woman who wants you lives near the Gap, Brego, so go marry her."

"Cearo, truly—"

"Shut up." She stopped walking when she reached Brego and spit next to where he was standing. Meeting his eyes, she said, "Save you excuses for someone who'll believe them."


End file.
